Lucky
by Ellipses
Summary: AU B/A Buffy is a famous popstar and has moved to Sunnydale to get away from the pressures of stardom. There, she meets Angel... Answer to Megan's challenge COMPLETE
1. Welcome To My World

**Title:** Lucky  
**Author:** Ice Princess  
**Email:** ice_princess_287@yahoo.com.au  
**Summary:**   
**Disclaimer:** Not mine; I'm just borrowing a few characters and lyrics. Don't sue.  
**Distribution:** My site (Every Now And Then), LoD, Fanfiction.Net, anyone else just ask.  
**Feedback:** Very much appreciated (and very much welcomed as well...in fact, encouraged).  
**Rating:** PG-15 (for language)  
**AN:** This is a challenge from Megan: Buffy just moved to Sunnydale from LA where she is a teen pop star (think Britney Spears) her parents moved her away from LA because she was getting to pressured. Her parents still live in LA and Buffy basically is taking care of her self. She moved into a huge house (think billionaire) with her manager/father figure Giles. She decides to be normal by attending high school. There she meets the Scooby Gang. Angel and spike are brothers and they both have huge crush on her (they have her pictures all over their walls and binders). Buffy is also a genius although no one knows. She is in a lot of classes with Willow. Please don't assume that this is one of "those" fics, cos it won't be.  
**AN2:** **denotes thoughts** //denotes lyrics (mostly Britney songs unless noted)// Title obviously comes from 'Lucky', by Britney.  


**Part 1**

"You're onstage in two minutes," one of the annoying stage crew said to Buffy Summers, holding up two fingers as if he thought she didn't understand English. The guy was wearing a set of chunky headphones and had a few other gadgets strapped on and an awkwardly positioned mobile phone in the left-front pocket of his pants. Buffy would've burst out laughing had she not been being fussed over by the makeup crew currently doing her eyeliner. Again. They had been putting the stuff on enough times to line the eyes of the whole troupe of 30 or so dancers.

In front of her stood a dozen of the dancers all nervously warming up for the sell-out concert of Buffy's new tour. Fortunately, they had decided to keep the tour short so that Buffy could have some time off to relax and get away from the stress of superstardom. It was still two months until then but Giles and her parents had already decided where she was going to be going. All she had heard was that she would be moving to a small town not far from Los Angeles called Sunnydale and that her parents were excited to finally have a break from the stress of being in the limelight. Buffy felt the same way until she found out that she would be going to school there. Her manager was going to stay with her for the duration of her stay while her parents stayed in Los Angeles due to the demands of their own busy lives.

"You're on stage in one minute," the same guy said, this time holding up one finger. **God I wish I could give him a finger of my own and shove *his* up his ass.** Buffy checked her reflection in the mirror and wondered who designed her costume. It was pretty, not too bright, not too skimpy and very tasteful, unlike the last few she'd been forced to wear for her last few performances. Might have had something to do with her crazy ex-stylists demanding that she go for the revealing-and-sexy look and accidentally making her look like a streetwalker instead. **At least I looked like a thin streetwalker though...not that I was fat...hopefully.**

"Thirty seconds, people," the guy said again and everyone snapped to attention and took their places in the wings and listened to the MC doing his partly scripted, partly improvised speech and tried to not get butterflies or touch the curtains in the wings. They stressed every single time the importance of not touching the curtains during the rehearsal the day before and earlier that evening. Buffy was so sick of it that she'd made herself scarce during it and went off to get a quick break instead. Spending most of your life hearing it can make you kind of sick and tired of it being said...over and over again.

"Good luck everyone," Buffy tried to say over the din of the crowd screaming, cheering, applauding, going crazy—whatever you want to call it, it was part of that din. She doubted anyone could hear either. The dancers were to go onstage before her and had probably missed it. **Oh well, maybe next time.**

Buffy checked that her microphone was attached securely over her ear and that the wires wouldn't get tangled and the band started playing the intro music of the first song of the program. The program had been drilled into her mind so hard that she hardly had enough room for all the lyrics as well. **Okay, here goes.** Buffy stepped out of her hiding place in the wings as the smoke machine did its work in fogging up the stage. The crowd got louder and Buffy only just saw how packed it was.

//_And I, I'm here to testify  
That you're the only one I belong to  
I don't know where to start  
It turned into an art  
Not to show the world that it was you_// 

She glanced up at the audience again while she waited for the music between the verse and the bridge and noticed that there seemed to be an equal number of guys and girls out there in the crowd that night. **Haha, Giles, I win the bet.**

//_You made me realize  
Not to compromise  
The fact that you and I should meet  
I know we're gonna get (Know we're gonna get, get)_// 

Buffy took her focus off the people in the audience and focused all her concentration on getting all her moves right. She'd been having particular trouble with this one move during rehearsal every single time and she'd been practicing extra hard to get it perfect. It didn't help that those annoying camera guys kept following her in every direction she went.

//_Bombastic love  
So fantastic  
Where I'm completely yours  
And you are mine  
And it's gonna be  
Exactly like in a movie  
When we fall in love  
For the first time_// 

The rest of the song went by in a blur when she executed the move perfectly, making her feel like she was on top of the world. The bright lights behind her turned on abruptly; as expected for the big finish. **Someone should freeze me until they invent stage lights that don't make you all sweaty. God, how the heck am I supposed to change costumes so quick if it's sticking to me? Whoa, those lights can probably give you a pretty decent tan...**

Buffy adjusted her mic and moved her hair away from her face. "Hi everyone. How are you all tonight? Good?" the roar of reply was thunderous and Buffy quickly moved on, "I hope so cos there is still *plenty* to go. And may I please say that sitting down is *not* an option."

The extended intro started to play for the next song, sending everyone into a frenzy. Buffy took the time that she'd been allowed to sign autographs for the fans standing closest to the stage, hurrying down the steps on stage-right to shake their hands, sign a few autographs and accept their gifts. **I love this. I wish I didn't have to stop...**

The concert went by for Buffy in a flurry of lights, annoying cameramen scurrying back and forth, quick costume changes, loud music, complicated dance moves and a whole lot of loud cheering.

Buffy locked the dressing room door behind her after being spotted by both of her parents, her publicist and her manager all at the same time. All she wanted was to be left alone for a while; that was all. Why did they have to go hounding on her like a bunch of...hounds? It wasn't as if she would escape out the window or hitch a ride on a garbage truck or anything, so why were they always so agitated by her being alone?

Buffy gulped down as much water as her body could handle in one go before changing into her normal clothes and collecting all her gifts and belongings into her sports bag and put all the bunches of flowers she'd received into a neat pile next to her pile of Cosmopolitans. She wondered how many 'From your secret admirer' notes she'd get this time. She'd taken an interest in collecting them whenever she found them in the bouquets and had amassed a whole drawer full of them. Some were actually quite interesting to read.

Buffy went into the adjoining bathroom to get all the gunk off her face. It made her skin feel horrible and oddly dirty. After she'd finished, she reluctantly opened the door for the five people she knew would be standing on the other side—her very supportive famous-gallery-owning mother, Joyce Summers; her workaholic, usually-absent father, Hank Summers; her manager and father figure, Rupert Giles; her evil (but extremely good) publicist, Lilah Morgan; and her personal bodyguard, Charles Gunn. Normally she didn't mind them so much, but Buffy just wasn't in the mood for their constant worrying and questioning. Except Gunn of course, he was kinda interesting to talk to when they ever got a chance to have a proper conversation.

Sure enough, there they all were, leaning against the walls on either side of the creamy white walls of the hallway though the lighting made it seem more of a peculiar green colour. Buffy ignored their presence and proceeded to get herself ready to leave. The routine signing of a few autographs and meeting a few fans on the way to her limo—the same old, same old that she hated to repeatedly do after a gruelling day of rehearsal and a performance only hours after. She idly wondered how many times she'd signed her name in black marker on anything from posters to people's shirts. She'd even had her fair share of autographing the people themselves, on their arms, stomachs, cheeks, etc. She tried keeping count, but she lost her place after about 12...

Buffy slipped out a small container of Vaseline and applied it thinly to her lips and applied a little bit of mascara from the make-up box that was also sitting on her dressing table. Au naturale—exactly the look she had been going for lately. Lilah was going crazy for it, even though she never really stuck by it herself. As did the magazines, all of which had been going crazy for it ever since she first appeared in one of those "stars without make-up" articles looking as flawless as she did WITH the gunk on her face. The article had actually been a rather funny read and had even boosted her record sales for a short period of time.

"So, do you have something to tell me or can I go?" Buffy asked. She picked up her sports bag and slung it over her shoulder; the sooner she left, the better. She didn't like the place and was relieved to know that she would only be performing here a second time before moving to the next city, which was going to be San Francisco. She would then be taking the tour to Seattle and then a few of the states bigger cities in the middle like Denver, Kansas City, Oklahoma City, Minneapolis, Chicago, Detroit, Cleveland and then up to Boston before going down the East coast until she ended up in Miami for the grand opening of something or other (of what, she wasn't quite sure).

"No, nothing. We just want to discuss the details of your move to Sunnydale as soon as we can. I suppose you're a bit tired from tonight's performance, so I guess we'll have to have this discussion some other time," Giles said with a stiff British lip. Buffy had grown to love the man like he were her own father—her real father seemed only to be there when there was something important to show for—but he always had to say everything in the longest possible ways.

"Okay. Well if no one else has anything to say, can we leave now?" Buffy asked impatiently.

"I came to discuss the Sunnydale plans as well," Lilah said in a slightly annoyed voice, "but since that's a no-go, I guess I'll be heading home."

"Good," Buffy nodded. She allowed Gunn to take her sports bag from her and scooped up the bouquets of assorted flowers from beside her Cosmos. She could already spot one 'From your secret admirer' note sticking out from the very middle bouquet of roses. That would have to go into her drawer as soon as she got home.

Her parents led the way to the back stage door, which she knew very well by now, where they met up with the smallish crew of bodyguards geared up for the stage-door-fan-frenzy.

"Let's go," the one who seemed to be in charge said gruffly. He and his men surrounded Buffy, her parents, Gunn, and Giles. The door, which a whole lot of loud screaming came from behind, was opened swiftly, causing the noise to get considerably louder.

"Finally..." Buffy muttered under her breath.

"Buffy, please don't stay too long. You need your rest," Giles said.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah...you say the same thing every time."

"Yes, and it seems to me if you never stick to it."

Buffy just glared back. Before Giles could say anything else, they were swept out the door and into the crowd of screaming fans. They stood behind the barricades, waving posters to be autographed or banners declaring 'I love you Buffy!' and some were just happy to have come within such a close proximity to their idol. Also amongst the screaming mob were several photographers snapping away for their magazines or newspapers or whatevers. Buffy wondered briefly whether the photographers ever thought to bring ear plugs...

Buffy went around and signed a few posters, talked to some of the fans and accepted gifts as she made her way to her limo with her entourage of bodyguards, parents and a Brit in tow.

When Buffy finally made it to the car, she had at least 6 more plush toys and over half a dozen more bouquets of flowers. On the way back to the Summers' residence, Buffy wondered what it would be like in Sunnydale and how they would act around her. And for the first time in a long while, Buffy wondered if she would ever find real love.

*****

Angel Ferguson lay on his stomach, in his bed, scrawling incoherently in his maths book instead of doing the homework. He had always been such a study-smart guy that he hardly ever sat down and said, "I can't concentrate on this homework," but lately he had suffered a slump in his grade with that exact problem. He supposed that it spawned from his sudden obsession with the popstar he had once thought to be a brainless bimbo who had her voice mechanically-altered afterwards. What changed his mind? Well he wasn't exactly sure...

Giving up on the maths homework, he picked up the magazine he had just bought, lying on the ground beside his bed still inside the slim paper bag that it came back from the newsagent's inside. It was glossy, and the picture of Buffy Summers' beautiful, smiling face stared back at him. He tossed the paper bag bearing the words 'Sunnydale Plaza Newsagent' on the front into his wastepaper basket and flipped open the colourful teen-oriented publication. He had bought it primarily for the poster—he had a very impressive collection of over 30 and still counting—but there was also a headline reading 'Exclusive! Buffy Summers becomes a small-town gal!'. Bad headline, hopefully interesting read. Page 16...

"Buffy Summers has announced that she will be moving to a smaller town to complete her studies in high school. The Buffster has said that she will be retiring from the music biz temporarily to graduate from high school and wishes to recover from the stress of her quick shot to superstardom. Her destination has not been released to the press for obvious reasons, but she has said that it would be close to home…" The rest of the article droned on and on about the press conference and about the tour and was about the blippety-blah that usually went on in these types of teen magazine articles.

Angel tore out the poster carefully and put it on his desk for putting up on the wall later...after he finished the maths homework. He paid no more mind to the article and began concentrating on his homework. It was summer break and he knew he was supposed to be out enjoying himself, but his father had put him into a maths tuition thing which he had to attend every Saturday. His grade had suffered so much that his father—Mr. "Football is everything"—had expressed concerns. He could've been out playing a game of basketball with friends or checking out the girls at the beach with Spike, but he was stuck inside...with maths homework.

How exciting his life was...


	2. It's A Dog Eat Dog Kinda Place

**Part 2**

At the end of her two month tour, Buffy was left with most of August to adjust to her new life in Sunnydale. All that time to improve her tan, lounge around and become a lazy little blonde vegetable. It was the most fun Buffy had had in a long while that hadn't included loud music or screaming.

But still, she had not ventured outside. Experience told her that even WITH a hat and sunnies, people could still recognise familiar faces. The only sure-fire way would be to wear a balaclava, but it'd just be too hot and too suspicious. **And what a great fashion statement that would be...**

Her new home was situated at the top of a small hill not far from the town's centre. It was a large place; a bit too large for so few people to live in. Giles claimed that it was the only 'appropriate' place, but Buffy was convinced that Giles just fancied it for the library space that was available to keep all his books in. The house, or rather, mansion, had been bought without eating too large a hole in Buffy's bank account—which was surprising; when Buffy first saw the mansion, she punched poor old Giles in the arm for not telling her that he had bought such an overly large house with her money. Of course, she apologised afterwards. The estate really did have a certain "charm" to it. **Ha! Charm? More like absolute luxury.** You never really could know what was going through that man's head.

Also living at the mansion were Gunn (as per usual), a maid, a butler, a cook, a gardener and several other servants that Giles insisted that she needed. Buffy was sceptical, but didn't want to press the issue any further.

Buffy picked up the paper from the kitchen counter and flipped immediately to the cartoons—she liked to read Calvin and Hobbes... Her small, white Maltese tagged behind her as she walked, wagging his tail excitedly. Thor, the ever energetic little dog, preferred being walked in the mornings and late in the afternoon. Since Gunn was in LA (on leave for the weekend), Buffy would have to walk him herself. **Ugh, I just KNOW that someone will recognise me...I should get a new disguise. Maybe some prosthetics and some facial hair.**

Although the neighbourhood was a very reserved and quiet one, she feared that a simple trip around the block would alert everyone prematurely of her presence. This was something she definitely didn't want, what with Gunn away in LA for the next two days...uh-uh, no way. It'd happened before, when she had lived in LA. Rumours in the magazines said that her address had been sold on the internet, but Buffy doubted it was the truth. Thankfully they moved to a different neighbourhood, one which was more populated with stars and the like.

Buffy hurriedly gulped down the glass of orange juice that the maid had poured for her and finished reading the comic she had been reading. Buffy grabbed the leash from the hook inside the laundry, with Thor at her heels the whole time, and attached it to the collar that he wore around his neck. On her way out, she grabbed a baseball cap off the hatstand and procured a pair of sunglasses from her pocket. "Let's go," Buffy sighed, letting the butler open the door for them.

Thor didn't hesitate to go tearing out the door and down the long, winding pebbled driveway, dragging Buffy along with him. For such a little dog, he could be *very* strong, and this, mixed with his persistence, made the little dog who was screaming down the drive with a bumbling blonde in tow.

Buffy waved to the gardener who was pruning the hedge along the driveway, leaving the man with a little something to chuckle about for the rest of the day.

Rounding the corner of their street, Thor slowed down to sniff at a tree before abandoning it for the next tree. Deciding it would be more appealing to pee on this particular tree, Thor did his business and they continued down the street.

Halfway down the street, Buffy spotted a tall, dark-haired young man walking a medium sized black dog—or rather, the dog was walking him. The dog looked a lot like a Labrador mixed with...something else and seemed to have one ear sticking straight up and one flopping straight down. It pulled its owner along with its blue leash and was apparently doing quite well so far.

Buffy made sure that her sunglasses were, indeed, on her face and pulled the flap of her cap down a little farther. Whilst concentrating on hiding her face, she neglected to notice the handle of Thor's leash sliding over her wrist and falling loosely in her hand. With a new-found fervour, Thor tugged and found himself free of Buffy's hold. As quick as his little legs could carry him, the small white Maltese raced down the road, toward the black Labrador mixed...and the guy.

Angel kept his eyes on the path, running through the formulas he needed to know to do the maths homework that still sat untouched on his desk. While his dog, Bertha Blue, stopped to sniff at the next telegraph pole, he looked up and saw a small white dog running toward him with a leash flapping behind it. Chasing after it was a girl—slim, blonde and petite all 'round. Though he could hardly see her face, he could swear that he recognised her from somewhere. **But where?**

Angel wrapped Bertha Blue's leash around his wrist twice and prepared to try to help this mysterious girl with her dog. **Couldn't hurt to flirt a little too, right?** Angel grabbed Thor's leash as he got closer and halted the tiny dog's motion.

Buffy caught up eventually and picked Thor up from the ground and tucked him under her arm. "You cheeky little thing, don't ever do that again," Buffy said to Thor. She smiled at the guy—okay, incredibly gorgeous guy—and said, "Thanks. I guess my attention span isn't too good."

"No problem. It happens to me all the time," Angel squinted from behind his dark sunglasses and swore he had seen this girl before. **Was it the girl who worked at the Espresso Pump? No, she's taller. Or is it that girl in Advanced Chem with me? No, definitely not her.** "I'm sorry, have I met you before?"

**Oh no. The first few minutes out of the house and I'm already being recognised? Yeah, sure, it's gonna happen sooner or later, but I would've preferred it to have been later...** "No, I don't think we have," Buffy replied. She dropped her head down and tried not to look at the complete yumminess of the guy standing in front of her. **Muscles and dark, mysterious eyes...the two things I just *happen* to find irresistible...**

"No, I know I've seen you before. I just can't..." Angel searched his memory. He'd seen this girl before...

Buffy faked looking at her watch, "Oh my God, I'm sorry. I'm going to be late. Giles is going to kill me. Thanks for your help!" With that, she put Thor back on the ground and held tightly onto the leash. Giles really was gonna kill her... She waved goodbye and jogged back the way she came. **Oh God, oh God, oh GOD...fuck.**

"Giles? I've heard that name before," Angel mumbled to himself. He tugged lightly on Bertha Blue's leash and they were on their way once again. Angel shrugged; Murphy's Law always applied to him—he wouldn't remember if he tried so hard. It would come to him eventually...

Rounding the corner that Buffy had disappeared around, he spotted the girl entering the gates of the McMillan estate...or rather, the ex-McMillan estate. It was no secret that the place had been sold a few months ago for an amount that would probably stick as Sunnydale's highest property selling price for the next four or five centuries. And, indeed, the sum had been *very* generous. A little TOO generous, his stepfather had commented. **He probably thinks they're a bunch of crime lords come to set up shop in Sunnydale...**

Angel watched as the girl—whom had remained a mystery to him—bounded up the driveway and disappeared into the mansion. Angel shook his head. **No time to think about picking up girls or else Darla's gonna kill me... If only I knew who this girl was...**

Angel crossed the street to his own house. It was almost directly opposite the estate; only one house down from the one that was. **Must be a nice view.** Angel took Bertha Blue inside only to be greeted by the sight of his stepbrother, William (a.k.a. Spike, as he insisted everyone should call him) and his girlfriend, Faith, curled up on the living room couch.

"Oi, Peaches, your mum said she wanted to 'have a word' with you," Spike said with a grin, "she did *not* look very happy."

"Great...what now?" Angel muttered under his breath, unhooking the leash from the collar around Bertha Blue's neck. He gave the dog a little pat on the back and sent him in Spike's direction.

"Oh shit," Spike screamed, leaping off the couch, pushing his girlfriend away as he tried to escape. But Bertha Blue was quicker. She had him pinned to the back of the sofa and completely covered Spike's face with dog slobber.

Faith, the ever loyal girlfriend, stood back and was almost rolling on the ground laughing.

"You'll pay for that!" Spike yelled after his stepbrother, who continued into the house to find his mother. Spike glared at Faith and struggled to push off the large (and very determined) dog.

Angel ran up the stairs and followed the sound of the hairdryer. His father had died when he was seven and his mother married Spike's father a year later. They had grown up, for the greater part of their lives, together, yet they could hardly stand each most of the time. They were almost like a normal family. He almost even accepted his stepfather as being his own—well, at least as close to it as he could imagine.

Angel found his mother at her dressing table picking out some earrings from a jewellery box that sat tucked away in her drawer. She picked out a pair of dangly pearl ones that contrasted well with her dark brown hair. Angel had always thought that she looked absolutely stunning whether she was dressing to go to work or to go to a formal event.

"Mom?" Angel knocked on the door. He stepped into the room cautiously. **What'd I do now? Left the toilet seat up? I doubt it.**

"There you are. I was starting to think that Spike had forgotten," she said more calmly than Angel had been expecting her to.

"He told me that you were angry about something."

"He did? The big fibber. I was angry at his father. I just wanted to talk to you before I go out for lunch with Margot and the girls from the club," his mother said while she carefully attached the earrings to her ears. Margot, his mother's best friend who had been as such since they had been in high school together and the society women from the country club that was about an hour's drive out of Sunnydale oftentimes shared lunch to gossip and catch up on each others lives. Angel found it kind of interesting until he discovered that he was sometimes the topic of discussion.

"What about?"

"Relax, you're not in trouble. I'm just concerned about you and this new girlfriend of yours, Darla. You and I both know that Darla is bad news. I trust your judgement, but we're just concerned about the grades that you received last semester and about what your maths tutor spoke to us about your progress," she said, pursing her lips. Maryann Ferguson-Black NEVER pursed her lips. "We just want what's best for you..."

Angel gulped. Of all the things he'd guessed that she wanted to talk to him about, Darla's name had never popped into his head. "So you think my grades were influenced by Darla? Or are you just trying to break us up because you disapprove?"

"Even Margot thinks you can do better than Darla-"

"And I'm supposed to care what she thinks. Grace thinks, Reagan thinks, Mrs. McFarland thinks, even your secretary thinks. Don't *I* ever get to think for myself?" Angel asked angrily. He knew that his mother and her friends meant well, but his father had always taught him to do what he thought was right and not to listen to the opinions of everyone else. But then again, they say that the dead do no wrong. "I'm sorry mom. I just...don't want to talk about it."

Angel walked out of the room without breaking eye contact with his mother and went back to his room to *try* to do his homework and his mind off the mysterious girl he had just met.


	3. What's Your Name?

**Part 3**

"Buffy! Where on Earth have you been? We were worried," Giles asked furiously as soon as Buffy stepped through the door.

"I was taking Thor for a walk," Buffy replied cheerfully. She unhooked the leash from the collar and hung it up on one of the hooks in the coat closet by the door. She picked Thor up from the ground and lovingly nuzzled the adorable little dog. "Doesn't he look cute today?"

"Please, Buffy, don't try to change the subject. You went outside without Gunn-"

"And without informing you?" Buffy finished for him. "Tell me, Giles, can't I have any semblance of a normal life? Isn't that the purpose of coming here in the first place?"

"Of course, but-"

"But nothing. Please, Giles, can you just drop it?" Buffy asked tiredly. She returned Thor to the ground to allow the maid to give him a drink of water.

"Fine, but I hope this won't happen again. I am your legal guardian for the next 12 months and I don't want anything...unseemly to happen to you," Giles said. He sighed when Buffy didn't reply; he took his glasses off and cleaned them with a handkerchief that he always carried with him in his pocket. "Well, now that you're back, we can discuss the details of your time at Sunnydale High. The school was kind enough to fax me a few things about extra curricular activities and the like."

"Giles?" Buffy asked in a childish voice.

"Yes, Buffy?" Giles asked in an exasperated tone of voice.

"Can I be a cheerleader?"

Giles just sighed and led the way to his office. **This is going to be a long day...**

*****

"Hey Willow, do you know anything about the supposed new girl?" Xander Harris asked his childhood friend, Willow Rosenberg.

"There's a new girl? How come I never find out these things? You're always the one to tell me." She put her homemade lunch into her locker and hoped that it would stay fresh in there until it was time for lunch. She admired the small arrangement of Buffy Summers pictures on her locker door beside the pictures of herself and Oz that she had only put up a few minutes ago which had been taken over the Fourth of July holiday.

"So you don't know anything about it?" Xander asked again.

Willow rolled her eyes and turned back to face Xander. "If I didn't know about it in the first place then how can I know more than you?"

"Huh?"

"Never mind. I don't know anything," Willow said, slamming her locker door closed. "Have you seen Oz yet?"

"Umm...no. But, hello? New girl?"

"God, Xander. Do you ever think about anything else?"

"No. Sometimes I think about...okay, so you're right. Not that that's anything new," Xander said and slumped against the locker next to Willow's.

Today was only the first day of school—it hadn't even begun yet—but Xander was already counting down the days until summer break...graduation as well, of course...

"Willow, why did you bring a homemade lunch?" Xander said as the thought suddenly came to him. "We're seniors now. We can go off campus to have lunch if want, remember?"

"Well, well, umm...the, well, Miss Calendar, she...well, nothing. What if, wha-"

"Okay, Willow. Just, CALM DOWN. Relax a little. Hey, we're seniors."

"But what if they change the rules a-and I mar my unblemished record?" Willow asked; she was paranoid and she knew it.

"What rules?" Oz asked, abruptly announcing his arrival.

"Oz! You're here! Good. Isn't that good, Xander?"

"Did you hear about the new girl?" Oz asked casually.

Willow's smile turned into a frown when a Xander gave her a 'see? It wasn't just me' kind of look.

"You really need to get a life, Xander."

*****

The hallways of Sunnydale High School were buzzing with excitement. Summer was over, school was back, freshmen were lost in the school's maze of hallways and gossip was in the air.

"I heard that the new girl's supposed to be Liesel Matthews, you know, that girl who was in A Little Princess?" Harmony Kendall said to the rest of the girls crowded around her.

"Isn't she, like, 9 years old?" Cordelia Chase asked sceptically.

"Oh no, she's, like, eighteen now."

"And you know that how?" Cordelia raised her eyebrow at her friend suspiciously.

*****

"'Did you hear about the new girl? Did you hear about the new girl?'" Spike mocked as he walked through the halls alongside his girlfriend and stepbrother. "Sodding ponces..."

"Why oh why do you keep using that stupid fake English accent?" Faith counter-mocked. "I think a new girl is exactly what this school needs. Am I the only one who feels that it's just...boring all the time?"

"You're not the only one," Angel muttered under his breath. He just spotted Darla at the other end of the crowded hallway. "Fuck. There's Darla. Cover for me." With that, he ducked down and slipped into the adjoining hallway and ran outside, afraid for his life. He had only been dating Darla for two weeks for a bet that he had lost when he had been at much too rowdy beach party. Not that it was all bad...she just became a bit...schizo, not to mention possessive; she had serious attachment issues. **Just two more weeks to go and I'm as free as a...person like me should be.**

"Sure, whatever...'Be my slave Spike!'" Spike whinged under his breath so that only Faith could hear. "Just cos he's Mr. Big Shot Football Guy, doesn't mean we all have to drop to our knees..."

"Get over it Spike," Faith replied and swerved to one side to avoid a girl who was carelessly waving around a lollipop as she talked, accidentally bumping into Darla for her efforts. "Darla! How are you? Did you have a good summer?"

"Whatever," Darla said irritably. "Where's Angel?"

"He had to go the library to settle some overdue book fees," Spike filled in for Angel. He knew that it'd work, 1) because she hated the library and had probably never actually ever been inside it, 2) because she thought that the librarian, Wesley Wyndham-Pryce, was a schizo, and 3) because she is, and always will be, gullible.

"Oh...never mind then..." Darla replied with a frown.

*****

Angel walked quickly around the other side of the building. He still needed to go to his locker. He had amassed a collection of new things to put up in his locker and had all of seven minutes to do it. Not looking where he was going, he accidentally bumped into a girl...who happened to be...

"Cordelia. How was your summer?" Angel pretended to care. He was in no mood to talk to Cordelia, of all people. **Why are you punishing me, God?**

"Not bad. We went to Hawaii for two weeks and I got a really good tan but nothing very exciting. I'm sure yours was much more interesting though," Cordelia gave him her brightest smile.

Angel cringed. "Actually, it was kinda bad...and I'm kind of in a hurry. Seeya 'round." He took off in the direction he was originally headed towards leaving behind a thoroughly shocked and disgruntled Cordelia Chase.

Finally arriving at his locker after a few run-ins with his various other friends, he was only left with two minutes in which to put redo his locker. It'd always been bare, with only a crude sticker that Spike had jokingly stuck on and had stuck too hard to remove without using up a large chunk of his time. Not worth it. Good thing he had better things to stick over it though...

He stuck his favourite—a pic of Buffy Summers taken in a photo shoot for Detour—over the offensive sticker. He quickly shoved the rest of the pictures into his locker along with a video he had to return to a friend and slammed it shut...revealing a petite blonde girl behind it...the same girl who he had met last week when he had been walking Bertha. In her hand was a piece of paper with her timetable and locker combination printed on it and her other hand fiddled with the lock on the locker's door.

"You know, I never did find out your name," Angel said to her smugly. He still had no idea what she looked like...she was again wearing a hat and sunglasses. She seemed to want to hide her face.

"Well, I guess everyone will know it soon enough," Buffy replied, struggling to open the damn locker. So far no one had recognised her and she wasn't exactly rejoicing at the idea of having home room...the evil thing called 'roll call' would exist in that time period and it didn't really seem like a joyous kind of prospect.

Angel lightly thumped twice on the door near the lock and the door sprung open. "I saw it in a movie once. I thought I might try it," he shrugged.

"The movie was Casper. And if I recall correctly, the guy flirted with the girl after helping her out and then his evil, bitchy girlfriend showed up," Buffy said.

"Oh, how convenient. I believe mine is currently hunting me down," Angel said. "She's evil, bitchy AND annoying. How's that for three birds with one stone?"

"Pretty impressive," Buffy laughed. She closed her locker again and turned the piece of paper over to check her timetable. "Uh, I have Advanced Chem first period. How about you?"

Angel shrugged. "I don't know yet. We don't get our timetables until homeroom," the bell rang, "which is now. And I still don't know who you are. You see, I'll be telling all my friends I met this incredible girl and I won't be able even tell them what her name is." Angel joked with her as they started down the corridor.

Buffy hesitantly pulled him to the side of the bustling corridor and lowered her head. "Well then I hope you're not too big of a bragger," Buffy said nervously and carefully removed her sunglasses. She stared up at him with a slightly sheepish expression. "Busted, huh?"

Angel gulped. **Breathe in, breathe out. Just keep on going. You can do it. Don't lose your cool now, Ferguson.** "Buffy Summers..." he managed to squeeze out under his breath. "Well, uh, I'd...be Angel. Angel Ferguson."

Buffy quickly put her sunglasses back on and they continued down the corridor with Angel continually reminding himself to breathe in and out, in and out. "See? It doesn't help when you find out."

"Maybe you should've warned me."

Buffy laughed, "You make it seem as if I have a gun pointed to your head. Relax. I don't bite, I swear." She glanced appreciatively down at Angel's outfit, "Although if you keep wearing those leather pants I might have to revise that."


	4. Uh, I'm Sure You'll Fit Right In

**Part 4**

Buffy entered homeroom with a sense of apprehension. Not only did she not look forward to having her name called out, she also dreaded finding out if she had really said what she had to Angel. She knew she was thinking it, but if she really did say it...oh boy. Buffy found a seat near the back of the room next to a pleasant-looking red headed girl who was chatting in hushed tones with the guy sitting next to her. The guy had dyed hair and seemed to Buffy to be a rocker-type.

Upon noticing Buffy, Willow turned her attention away from her boyfriend and to the unfamiliar blonde girl sitting at the desk next to hers; the now-infamous 'new girl'.

"Hi, I'm Willow. Welcome to Sunnydale," she said cheerfully. "I think you're popular already; the whole grade's been talking about you and we still don't even know what your name is."

Buffy shrugged. "I got here a little bit later than I intended to so the only people I've actually met is Angel Ferguson...and, well, the principal. My name's Buffy," she shook hands with Willow nervously. This girl seemed nice enough...

"Willow Rosenberg," the teacher called out.

"Present," Willow replied. She turned back to Buffy and said, "Buffy, as in Summers?"

Buffy shifted in her chair. "Well..."

"Buffy Summers," the teacher said with a slight curiosity. The teacher was young—not as old as most of the faculty—and thus wasn't in the dark about...such things.

"Umm...present?" Buffy replied sheepishly. At that moment she wished the earth would open up and swallow her. But as luck had it, this was the kind of place where wishes didn't come true and didn't having people-eating classroom floors. Every person in the room turned to stare at her. There were also several gasps including one from Willow, who was shocked to find that she had talked to her favourite star in the whole wide world and not even realised it.

"Would you mind removing the hat and sunglasses Miss Summers?" the teacher asked with a frown. She was a history teacher and was always sceptical of everything that was without proof.

Buffy complied (reluctantly) and removed her beige crusher hat and her brand new Gucci shades. She smoothed her hat-hair down self-consciously and braced herself for the round of 'oh my God's that was sure to occur.

"Oh my God," the teacher muttered. As did Oz, Willow and the rest of the class.

"Okay..." the teacher said, barely managing to reign in the shock in her voice. She turned her attention back to the marking of the roll. "Darla Sutherland?"

"Here."

"Robert Talbot?"

The teacher continued calling the roll and handing out the timetables and reading the notices. Among the notices were various tryouts, club announcements and a request for volunteers to be in the Homecoming Dance Organising Committee.

The bell rung right on time and Buffy found that most of the students weren't in such a hurry to leave. In fact, she could see a few heading in her direction and glanced around her for help. **Ooh, Willow.** "Willow?"

"Yeah?" Willow asked nervously. Her eyes were wide and her hands shaking as she picked up her books.

"Could you please tell me where room," Buffy looked down at her timetable, "109 is?"

Willow glanced down at her own timetable, "I think I'm in the same class. Advanced Chemistry?" She raised her eyebrows. **I'm sure she's not stupid, but ADVANCED? Even *I* have trouble in that class...**

"Yeah. I'm glad there'll be a familiar face then," Buffy smiled brightly. She put her hat back on as well as her shades and the two girls headed toward the Science block. She hoped that word hadn't spread too quickly, but she could always dream. She received a couple of stares as they passed through the corridors but she busied herself in conversing with her new friend and barely noticed.

"What's it like? You know, being famous?" Willow asked excitedly. After talking to the girl for only two minutes, she found that it got easier and easier to talk to her and was much more down-to-earth than she seemed.

"I always get asked that, you know? And to tell you the truth, I'm not sure. It just goes by so quick that you hardly even notice it."

Willow nodded. "I can imagine... I don't think I'd be able to cope with the pressure if I were you." Willow steered them into the classroom—room 109—and they took seats near the back of the room. "I wonder which teacher we'll have," Willow wondered aloud.

"Thanks," Buffy said with a slight smile.

"What on earth for?"

"For not being all paranoid around me."

"What about me?" Buffy took her glasses off and lifted her gaze to again see the very masculine form of Angel Ferguson.

"You, too, then," Buffy smiled. "Advanced Chem? And I thought you were one of those stereotypical jock-types."

"And I thought you were one of those stereotypical celebrity-types," Angel said, raising his eyebrows pointedly. He took a seat next to Buffy and nodded a greeting to Willow.

"Point taken," Buffy replied. "I guess we all have layers then."

"Angel's actually quite smart...but he doesn't like to admit it," Willow said with a smirk. "He just gets distracted too easily."

Angel shrugged sheepishly, "What was it? Toll House cookies, football, loud dogs, daydreaming, flashy cars, newspaper articles...the creases on my palms? I think I pretty much got distracted by all of those things while being tutored by yours truly," Angel cocked his head in the red head's direction, "Willow the Genius."

The teacher entered the room, only arriving late because he had been held up by Principal Snyder. Dr Gregory was not only pleased to learn that he had a celebrity in his class, but a pretty darned smart one too. He clapped his hands twice to gain the attention of his class.

"I'm sure you're all still excited about the summer break but, as most of you already know from taking this class last year with Mr Thomason, this class covers a lot of topics and we only have so much time to cover it in. This is Advanced Chemistry, so if any of you are planning on slacking off and not doing your homework then I suggest you pick a different course. And yes, sadly enough, you'll be having me this year," Dr Gregory said with a smile.

The class burst into laughter. It was a *very* well known fact that Dr Gregory was the nicest teacher in the faculty and the only science teacher who not only had a doctorate, but a good many years of practical experience in the field of chemistry. He even knew the periodic table like the back of his hand.

"You know we love ya, Doc," one of the other students in the class said.

"Right, well, now that's cleared up, I'll issue your textbooks and then we can get on with the lesson," Dr Gregory continued. "I hope you don't object to arrange seating. It's easier for me, and you. It helps me to see who's absent, to help my deteriorating memory remember your names and to avoid any...disagreements. The seats you are all currently in will be the ones you'll keep for the rest of the year."

The lesson went by before they knew it and armed with brand new text books, a lesson plan and a few things to revise on for homework—just to refresh their memories. Talking about revising...

"Umm, Angel?" Buffy asked as she packed up her stuff.

"Yeah?"

"Did I say that stuff aloud? You know, about your pants?" Buffy asked shyly. **Shyly? Whenever did I get shy? I'm not shy. Then why am I shy? I can't be shy. Celebrities aren't shy... Oh, don't flatter yourself, Summers.**

"I'm afraid you did. Unless I was reading your thoughts," Angel replied with a smirk. He had gradually become comfortable around her presence and less than an hour after meeting her, he felt as if he could carry a normal conversation with her. **Of course, I feel as if I can make pigs fly at the moment too...**

"Damn. I was *so* hoping I wouldn't embarrass myself on my first day," Buffy said with an admittedly flirtatious smile.

"Why were you embarrassed?" Willow asked, all of a sudden joining into the conversation. She had been discussing the text with Amy Madison, to help her re-understand it. Apparently, she had missed out on that part of the topic the year before because of the death of her mother and hadn't ever caught up on it. "Unless..."

"Don't worry, Willow. It isn't too extraordinary. What've you got next?"

"I think I have English," Willow checked the timetable. "Yep, English. Room 203."

"Cool, I'm in the same class...again," Buffy exclaimed excitedly. "I wonder if we have any other classes together..." Buffy headed toward the door leaving Willow and Angel a few paces behind.

"She's nice," Willow whispered to him. "And she's smart. Wouldn't it be cool if we became really good friends or whatever? She's nice," she repeated and left Angel behind to catch up with her.

"Yeah, she is," Angel said to himself. **Just two weeks to go, buddy. I don't even know how I lasted so long...**

*****

Throughout the day, Buffy gradually eased into her new 'normal Californian teenager' role and had ditched the stupid disguise. She didn't care about being recognised—heck, it was bound to happen anyway. She decided that it was better to embrace it—she was going to be there for a while.

Her new friendship with Willow was already beginning to blossom and the two girls discovered that they had many of their classes together and she had even met the rest of Willow's friends. As well as the ever-charming, Miss Cordelia Chase...in Buffy's opinion, Cordelia was...rather bracing. **I wonder if her role model is Victoria Principle...it's possible...**

"Buffy!"

She turned to the sound of the voice and spotted Angel jogging toward her.

"Are you going home already?" Angel asked hurriedly.

"Yeah, cos you know, end of school..." Buffy frowned.

"Do you...do you wanna stay for the tryouts?"

"Oh my God, how could I forget? My memory is really bad... I'm *so* sorry. Tell you what? I'll meet you after your tryouts and then we can walk home, grab a coffee together or whatever. You just reminded me about this...thing I was going to do."

"And what might that be?"

"Don't worry, you'll find out," Buffy said mysteriously before turning around to head the way she was originally going. Angel was left by himself to watch her walking away from him. But not for long...

"Angel?" Darla's voice asked from behind him, startling him out of his musings.

"Darla..." Angel grumbled back. He REALLY regretted this now... **I have (or had) a really good chance with Buffy—the most beautiful woman on the face of the earth—but Darla is here to ruin it all...bitch. There's too much to lose here. I can wait two weeks...unless some other guy catches Buffy's fancy by then.** "What do you want?"

"Just a kiss," Darla said innocently.

"Whatever, I don't care." Angel kissed her quickly, not caring about her motives or whatever strange something or other she might've had up her sleeve. He was late for tryouts and it was better to have her out of his hair instead of clinging to him until he complied. He'd learnt that lesson quickly.

Darla peeked out of the corner of her eye to see the expression on Cordelia Chase's face. Queen C had been chasing after the hottest property in SHS (namely, Angel Ferguson) for years and Darla felt the need to rub it in her face. All's well that ends well.

"I'll see you later then?" Darla asked, licking her lips for Cordelia to see.

"Whatever," Angel replied, before dashing off to the tryouts. The coach needed help choosing new players for the team—no escape—and had a zero-tolerance on lateness. Well, unless you were his star quarterback, but there were always limitations...being 10 minutes late because of his love-life being one of them.

Darla huffed. **If that guy wasn't so fuckable, THEN I'd be offended.**

*****

"Cheerleadin' tryouts?" Gunn laughed. "Whatchu doin' tryin' out for cheerleadin'?"

"Why not?" Buffy frowned.

"Nothin', nothin'...suit yourself," Gunn said. "Although, there IS one condition."

"And what would that be?" Buffy asked, even though she knew what he was going to say.

"Can I watch? All those hot girls in short skirts jumping around and being all acrobatic? Man, I haven't gotten any of that kinda action for a LONG time. How completely sad is that?"

"Be my guest," Buffy grinned.

She grabbed the gym bag from the back seat of the long, black limousine parked in the student car park and hurried back into the school, eagerly wanting to do what she did best...well, besides singing and all that stuff. **Gosh, I haven't done cheerleading since freshman year...**


	5. Tsk Tsk

**Part 5**

Gunn settled himself on the bleachers inside the school's gymnasium and contentedly watched the steady stream of girls flooding in for the cheerleading tryouts; both to watch and to tryout for a place on the squad. Could he really help it if he had natural hormonal urges to satisfy? He honestly didn't have any control over such urges—scientifically proven stuff too...he supposed.

A loud whistle was blown to draw the attention of the mass of girls crowded all over the bleachers. "Quiet, please!" A voice shouted.

A group of girls who Gunn supposed was part of the current cheerleading squad stood with a certain air of authority at the edge of the court, inspecting the faces of the young hopefuls among the crowd. Cordelia was surprised with the turnout—they only had a few spots vacant, not including the freshmen they were "required" to enlist.

"Thank you," the voice said again. "Welcome to the tryouts for SHS's cheerleading squad. Good luck to everyone and try to keep your ears open and your voices down. Hi, I'm the squad's captain, Cordelia Chase, and we're going to be judging on your routine memorisation speed, flexibility, strength of voice and your ability to perform. We don't have enough time to audition all of you one by one, so please bear with us on this...procedure. Okay?"

A chorus of 'okay's came from the bleachers.

"Good. Firstly, we'll do a quick head count, split you into groups and teach you a short routine. Each group is going to perform the routine and if we feel as if you're not capable of memorising routines quickly, then we'll be letting you go. And so on and so forth until we have our final selections for the squad."

Gunn almost fell asleep after five minutes of listening to the brunette (a pretty hot brunette; but snobby-looking) go on and on about procedure this, procedure that; freshman this, groups that. He was surprised he hadn't conked out during the first two minutes. Not surprisingly, after the five minutes were up, they had begun to really get into it. **Girls in short skirts, jumping around, being all acrobatic...now I know there really is a God. Amen. Where's Buffy anyway?**

*****

Buffy crept into the gym later than she had anticipated, after being held up by...people. **More like drooling over the football guys...** She stuck her head through the door and hoped that nobody had noticed her lateness. Unfortunately, luck wasn't with her at that particular moment.

"Looking for something?" The one and only Cordelia Chase asked pleasantly, with a much-too-fake smile that made Buffy wonder if her own fake-smiles looked so...hmm.

"Yeah. Umm, sorry. I was kinda held up by some...stuff. Is that okay?"

"Sure. You can join the group in the corner over there. We're just doing routine memorisation. You know, that kind of thing," Cordelia said, pointing to the far corner which consisted of about ten other seniors.

Buffy nodded and headed in that direction, leaving her stuff with Gunn as she crossed the room. Buffy rolled her eyes at the gasps and much too familiar silence that resounded from the other groups of cheerleader-wannabes; mostly freshmen, sophomores and with just a small handful of juniors.

"Hi," Buffy greeted her group. There were nine seniors including a girl in her cheerleading uniform, teaching the routine to her group in a fashion that would be hard to follow. For some people. Buffy had been dancing since the tender age of three—enough to be able to learn steps and routines at the drop of hat and had a knack for performing them. She figured that this audition/tryout would be a piece of cake compared to her pre-concert preparations and rehearsals. **Good for me...you know, theoretically.**

"Hi," the cheerleader replied brightly as did the rest of the group, each stopping briefly to flash Buffy a smile although each inwardly wondering if their own performances would be degraded by hers.

"Okay, let's go over the steps again," the cheerleader (who had not yet even introduced herself to Buffy) said turning away from the group and counting them in. Buffy watched the series of steps and put them to memory. The steps seemed familiar...but Buffy couldn't remember where she had seen them before. The group repeated the sequence a few more times, giving Buffy the time to learn the rhythm and timing of the moves. Buffy watched, not really needing the practise—the steps weren't THAT hard. It was like doing pliès: demi-pliè, grande-pliè, change positions, and repeat.

"Okay, now we're going to try it with the music," the nameless cheerleader said, pressing play on the tape deck which was sitting on the first row of seats on the bleachers, "without my help." The girl sat herself down next to the tape deck and watched with a sly smile spread across her face. Until she realised what song had been picked...and where the much-too-familiar steps came from.

Buffy hummed the familiar tune of the song, finally recognising where the steps had come from. They were simplified from the music video for this song... **What was it called again? Oh yeah, "Anticipating" or something like that.**

_//Top down, on the strip  
Lookin' in the mirror and  
I'm checkin' out my lipstick  
Girlfriends up in the back  
Were out for an all night  
Feelin' so crazy cool  
But that's alright  
Don't know what they're ready for  
Valet baby, here's the keys  
We're about to step inside//_

Buffy executed the moves perfectly, concentrating on doing it the way they had shown instead of the (much) harder version of it from the video. She sung the lyrics quietly in her head, keeping in time to the music and sensing the stares that were sure to be present.

_//Skip on the drinks  
Head to the floor  
Makin' my way  
Past the show  
My body's taken over  
And I want some more//_

Cordelia strode over to their group and pushed the 'stop' button of the tape recorder. "Okay, I think that's enough. We'll see this group perform first," Cordelia said bitterly, narrowing her eyes at the sight of Buffy. Rumours were already bouncing all over the school about Buffy and Angel being a possible couple in the very near future. Cordelia didn't like that idea too much, but being the competitive person she was, she also wanted recruits for her squad to actually be good, really good. **Oh yeah Cordy, spite yourself some more...oh, and while you're at it, go bite yourself in the ass, too.**

At the end of the first and second rounds, there were only 4 seniors—including Buffy—and about 15 girls left from the other grades—mostly freshmen.

Gunn watched from the other end of the gymnasium, carefully studying the girls that—for one reason or another—were still hanging around like a personified flock of sheep. Some of them had even talked to him, but none had interested him except for the commanding brunette by the name of Cordelia Chase. Gunn liked confidence in a woman. **God, look at that body. Can't say I'm complaining...**

Gunn flicked his gaze back to his charge and checked the box that was beside 'Safe during tryouts' on his imaginary checklist. No creepy men, no cameras, no crowding. **Except for these girls...hey, hold on a sec...**

"Okay, we'll have a five minute break and then we'll do the individual auditions," Cordelia announced, just to be disregarded by the people who flocked towards Buffy to get her to sign her autograph—on notebooks, binders, caps, and anything else they could find. Gunn stood up to help out, but Buffy gave him a Look that told him to sit his ass down. **Okay, not arguing. I got bad experiences with flocks of girls anyway. Ooh, there's Cordelia.**

Gunn got up again and headed down the bleachers and headed towards the cheerleaders, who were struggling to move a large table out onto the court. **No better way to meet girls than to help them out with stuff...or so Marcus says.**

"Hi," Gunn said to Cordelia, "need help moving that?"

"Sure...whatever. Be careful though, it's heavy."

Gunn lifted one end of the table easily, much to the surprise of Cordelia and the rest of her helpers. The girls immediately lifted the other end and moved it right under the basketball hoop where the chairs were already set up.

Gunn was thanking Marcus inwardly as he saw Cordelia approaching him out of the corner of her eye. He stuck out his hand, "Gunn."

"Cordelia," she answered, shaking his hand. "Thanks for the help. You workout?"

"Only when I get time," Gunn answered with a shrug. "My job is kinda time consuming."

"Really? That leads me to wonder why a guy with a busy schedule is hanging around at a high school, perving on the girls trying out for cheerleading," Cordelia commented, half jokingly and half seriously.

"Me? Perving? No way," Gunn lied.

"Yeah, cos that's believable," Cordelia turned away to grab the box of comment slips that were needed for the judges to fill in for each applicant. She laid them out—one in front of each chair—and turned back to face Gunn.

"It's true. I'm a bodyguard."

"For who? An invisible Chelsea Clinton?"

"Close but not quite," Gunn said proudly. "For her," Gunn cast his gaze in Buffy's direction.

"Uh-huh, and I'm the Easter Bunny," Cordelia said sarcastically. She looked back up from the box. "You're serious," she stated, pausing for a moment to think of the possibilities. "Must be a Hell of a job then..." **I wonder if he has connections...wow, I could be, like, an overnight superstar...**

*****

Buffy signed the last autograph and checked her watch. **Shit, it's getting late. I hope they won't finish their tryouts too early...**

Buffy scanned the room and found Cordelia talking to..."Gunn?" Buffy gave the pen back to the girl who she had just finished autographing for and jogged over to the other side of the court. "Cordelia, can I have a word with you, please?"

"Of course. But only if you tell me if Gunn is *really* your bodyguard, though."

"Yeah, he is. Charles Gunn, born in 1978 and raised in LA by his mother, Peggy, and older brother, Marcus," Buffy replied breathlessly. "I'm kinda running late, so can I, like, go first or something?"

"Running late for what?" Gunn asked in puzzlement. He knew her schedule—where she should be, who she should be with, what time and why.

"I-I'm going t-to the orthodontist," Buffy stuttered, flashing Gunn a 'don't say a word' kind of look.

"Of course you can," Cordelia smiled and sat herself at the chair that stood directly in the middle. "If you need to go to the orthodontist to check up on your imaginary braces, then be my guest."

"I meant dentist," Buffy amended quickly. "Just a slip of the tongue. Happens all the time. Orthodontist, dentist, same thing..."

"If you insist," Cordelia replied. "You have to fill out one of these though." She handed her a form and a pen, "Just so we know where to contact you, your details, stuff like that."

Buffy filled it in with her neat script and handed the form back. "Here."

The judges sat behind the desk, smiling. They each held pens in their hands which were poised over their comment slips and reminded Buffy of when she once dreamt that she auditioned for a role in a commercial and got turned down for being 'too blonde'.

"So what exactly am I required to do? You know, since I missed the first few minutes."

"We ask you questions, you answer them. We ask you to yell, you yell. Okay?" Cordelia asked, scribbling a few words on the page in front of her.

"Okay."

*****

Buffy was asked questions and she answered them. She was asked to yell and she yelled. Heading up the bleachers where Gunn was sitting, Buffy grabbed her stuff and started heading towards the locker rooms.

Gunn grabbed her arm. "Wait, what's the hurry? Who're you meeting?"

"A friend," Buffy said and ran into the girls' locker rooms, leaving Gunn to stand outside by himself.

When Buffy came out again, she tossed her gym bag to him and said, "Could you please take this home and tell Giles I'll be a bit late? You'll find me on Main Street. If you don't, call me on my cell."

"Right. Got it. Go home, tell Giles, meet you on Main Street and call if I can't find you. Okay."

"Not meet. Just...I dunno. Do whatever it is that you do..." Buffy shrugged.

"Ooh, you're meeting a guy," Gunn said in a sing-song voice. "I don't need to tell you to be careful do I?"

"I've got my new lipstick-sized pepper spray, remember? No worries. So...I'm not in trouble?"

"Let's just say that I think it's about time you got somebody to hang out with who isn't me...I meant that in a good way," Gunn added with a frown.

"You're such a sweetie," Buffy gave him a peck on the cheek, "bye."

*****

Angel watched Buffy from down the hallway. **Who am I kidding? How could I just assume that a girl like Buffy wouldn't already have a boyfriend? Oh well...I guess I could settle at being just friends...in theory, I suppose.**

Buffy waved goodbye to Gunn and jogged down the hallway to meet Angel, who looked to be staring at his shoes. "Hi. Sorry about the being late thing. I was trying out for the cheerleading squad," Buffy announced happily.

"Really? Well then I think you're definitely gonna get in," Angel said. "If that helps at all."

"It does," Buffy beamed. "You wanna grab a coffee or a conversational beverage of any kind? You know, cos I'd really like to get to know you better."

"Sure. Coffee sounds good."


	6. Fall, Falling, Fallen, Ouch!

**Part 6**

"Oh my God, that's gotta hurt," Buffy said, shaking her head. "Three storeys? I thought you said it was at your house, though."

"Well, it was," Angel said. He stopped at his driveway and punched in the security code for the gate, "See? Three storeys. You wanna come inside?" The gate clicked open and held it open for her.

"I would," she beamed, stepping through.

Heading up the path, Buffy studied the property—large, lots of plants, high security and a very large (and very impressive) house. The mansion's exterior was made of sandstone, good with the upkeep seeing as there wasn't a single stain from the recent Californian summer rainstorms. Rose bushes lined either side of the driveway, alternating colours all the way up—red, white, red, white... Two round topiaries stood either side of the front door, each pruned so prudently precise that not a single leaf nor twig was out of place.

"Nice house," Buffy commented as Angel fished around in his pockets for his house keys. Barking came from behind the door, Bertha was anxious to be let out into the yard to do his 'thang' (and sniff around for bugs and snails while he was at it).

Angel eventually found his keys in his bag and pulled them out excitedly. "Not quite as nice as yours, I'm afraid."

"And what's so appealing about a large house with much too much space? Getting lost or feeling alone?" Buffy commented dryly. "Except for when Thor is there, of course. There's nothing like a dog for company..."

"Well, unless you're talking about ugly-" Angel paused for moment. "Actually, never mind."

"Don't worry. You might find that I'm not easily offended," Buffy said with a smile, slipping off her coat and giving it to Angel to hang in the closet. "I kinda get used to it after awhile, what with all the people I'm constantly surrounded with. You know, stage crew, dancers, make-up, etc, etc..."

"Okay, well I guess you know what I was going to say then..." Angel said with a slight shake of his head. "I guess you're not the only one embarrassed today."

Buffy giggled, "Guess not. But when has that ever been a bad thing?"

Angel shrugged. "Would you like something to drink? Are you hungry? Would you like something to eat?"

"No. I'm still full from the cake and my wonderfully sugary and caffeinated mocha," Buffy smiled. She gazed up the stairs and inspected the entire interior of the front foyer—very striking artworks and homely atmosphere...the kind that strikes as the kind that mothers create for their children. Like a nest with florals and hardwood floors. "Where's the rest of your family?"

"I don't know. Spike's probably upstairs with his girlfriend...again. My dad's at work, and I think my mum has her facial appointment today," Angel said, leading her up the stairs. The jittery, nervous feeling had left long ago, but now had returned. His room. The posters. **Shit...oh, fuck. Damn, shit, crap...argh!!** He stopped at his door and reached for the doorknob. **Stop it, you fuckhead! Embarrass yourself some more why don't you?** He pulled his hand back again.

"What's wrong?" Buffy asked, puzzled as to what it could be that was behind that door.

"Nothing...just wondering if Spike is home... He's a fan of you, too," he said, opening the next door down the hallway. "Spike!"

"Oi! Will you stop barging in on people like that?" Spike asked, panicking about this very unfavourable situation. He was making out with Faith, on his bed, and they had somehow gotten into a VERY strategic position. He saw a flash of blonde hair flickering from behind his door. "Don't tell me you brought Darla here. You know how your mum hates 'er."

"No, not Darla," Angel said with a mischievous grin. He pushed the door wider and Buffy gawked.

"Oh my God," Spike said breathlessly.

"Oh my God," Buffy's eyes widened at the abundance of posters of *her*. How weird was that? Seeing yourself all over someone else's walls...or anybody's walls.

"Spike, Faith, Buffy," Angel introduced them casually.

"Nice to meet you," Faith said, smiling pleasantly at Buffy. "Spike's totally obsessed about you. So is Angel."

"Are you and Spike brothers?" Buffy asked Angel, "Cos you don't look very alike."

"Just stepbrothers," Angel replied, waving his hand in front of William's eyes.

"What the fuck?" Spike said under his breath. "If I'm dreaming, wake me up."

Faith punched his arm.

"Ouch," Spike said, rubbing his arm protectively. "Oh wait, I felt that." He cocked his head to the side, "But then again, maybe you CAN feel things in your dreams...ow..."

Angel sighed, "Stop making a big fool of yourself, William. But of course, how could I forget? You're always making a fool of yourself..."

"Oh shit," Spike swore. **My posters! Okay, NOW I'm embarrassed. Damn you, Peaches. Why'd you have to go and invite her over without warning! I heard the rumours, but... Well there goes my chance with her...**

"Wow...impressive poster collection..." Buffy commented, worriedly gazing at the posters pinned up all over the walls of the room.

Spike snorted, "You should see HIS room.

"Spike!" Angel scowled, punching him in the other arm.

"Hey! What was that for? Now they both hurt..."

"Wuss."

"Talk about a dysfunctional family..."

"Okay, who wants something to drink? Water? Coffee? Orange juice? A margarita?" Angel asked, sheepishly avoiding having to show her his own room. Spike was right; he had a LOT more of that kind of stuff than his stepbrother. "We'll be going now," Angel said before his stepbrother could embarrass him even more. He held the door open and pleaded with Buffy for her to help him out.

"I guess I'll see you around then," Buffy said quickly, before swiftly stepping through the door and closing it behind her.

Angel shook his head. "Don't ask."

"Come on...please? I want to see," Buffy pleaded with him. "I promise I won't laugh or say 'oh my God' or do anything mean."

"Please?"

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"Oh come on. It can't be THAT bad..."

"Yes it is."

"Please?"

"No, no, no...NO WAY. Uh-uh," Angel shook his head adamantly. "Never."

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours," Buffy teased light-heartedly. She had learnt early on in her life that there were certain people you could and couldn't trust—she felt that she was pretty damned close to finding people she could, and it was only her first day. Not that this had anything to do with the whole 'trust' issue...

Angel gaped at her...then he burst out laughing. "This is ridiculous."

"Please? You're making me beg and that is NEVER good."

"Oi! What the fuck is going on out here?" Spike interrupted, poking his head (which was attached to a half-annoyed, half-amused face) through the door.

"Nothing."

"What do you mean it's 'nothing'? She's showing you 'ers; go ahead," Spike scolded him, even though he didn't have a single clue what the heck they had been arguing about. **Who do they think they are? A married couple? Hah, and they've only known each other for a day...like Dharma and Greg. Ahem...not that I watch that show...and also not that I don't want Buffy for myself.**

"I don't know which part of the conversation you heard, but I think you're getting a very wrong impression," Angel said, noticing the smirk on his stepbrother's face.

Spike surrendered, "Okay, okay. I get the point now...I'm going..." He ducked back in his room, not before giving Buffy a quick wink, out of Angel's line of sight.

Buffy shook her head. **Strange guy...but at least he has a good sense of humour.** Turning back to Angel, she again said, "Please?"

"Maybe...but not today," Angel answered. "I've got to clean it up, take down my collection of posters...stuff like that."

"Posters of me?"

Angel's expression turned into one of awkwardness, "Umm...sort of."

"Worse than Spike?"

"Uh...you could say that. You know...if it's a bad thing..."

"It isn't a bad thing," Buffy said cheerfully. "As long as you aren't one of those freaky stalker-types, it's pretty much a good thing. And you have to let me see one day, so...ha! Promise me, and I'll promise you." She held out her pinkie finger.

Angel looked at her hesitantly. **What the fuck? I'm dreaming...I've got to be dreaming. What do I do? Embarrass myself and let her find out that I'm obsessed with her and lose her friendship or...let her find out that I'm obsessed with her and get to see hers? This is REALLY stupid. Ooh, but I DO get to go inside Buffy Summers' BEDROOM...what the Hell do I do?** Angel latched his own pinkie finger with hers, "Promise. Even though this is one of the stupidest things I've ever heard of..."

"Good."

"How many?" Buffy asked cautiously.

"Oh...about 50..." Angel shrugged.

"You said something about a margarita?"

*****

That night, Buffy went to bed thanking anyone who was listening for giving her the chance to have a normal life, and for being able to meet people who weren't totally freaked out by her celebrity status and who she could already imagine being good friends with. Willow, Xander, Oz and Angel... **And oh my GOD. Angel is hot...very much so. He has a girlfriend though. An evil one, sure, but still...a girlfriend is a girlfriend. And isn't it ironic that Cordelia is named after the only one of King Lear's three daughters who *wasn't* evil? Oh well, at least this town has a lot of character... Yeah, keep thinking thoughts like that Buffy, you know you're only trying to keep your mind off Angel and his leather pants... Stop that! Bad Buffy! FRIENDS, just FRIENDS... Emotional attachment equals extreme badness. Especially emotional attachment in the romantic sense. FRIENDS, Buffy... It won't be too hard. Just for the next...year or so. I think too much.**


	7. Hey! What Happened? Ooh, Nice Folder

**Part 7**

Buffy sipped her coffee, carefully blowing on it to cool it down. She glanced over at Giles, who hadn't said a word to her since dinner the night before when he had asked her to pass the salt.

"Giles? What's with the cold shoulder?" Buffy asked, setting down her still-steaming mug of coffee on the glaringly white tablecloth on the much too long banquet table.

"Pardon? Oh...don't worry about it. It's nothing," Giles dismissed, turning his attention to his newspaper once more.

"It's something. You've got something-face," Buffy stated, nodding her head pointedly.

Giles sighed. "It's nothing, Buffy. Please, continue eating breakfast. You'll be late for school."

"Not until you tell me what's bothering you."

"Okay, okay. No more pestering. I was just concerned about you and your new friend." Giles paused, "Friends."

"I'm not supposed to have friends? Why?"

"Well, frankly enough, it's a tad worrying. You can't afford to have any romantic ties whatsoever. It would, quite possibly, only end badly," Giles said without making eye contact with her.

"You don't have to worry about me. I doubt that anything is going to happen anyway," Buffy said, half-truthfully. **Uh-huh...keep telling yourself that Buffy.**

*****

Buffy stepped out of the limo with a smile plastered across her face. She could already hear the dramatic 'da-da-DUM' sounding itself in her head. She accepted her stuff from Gunn—her books, bag, etc—and closed the door behind her.

She waved as the car started up again and left for parts unknown. **Knowing Gunn, probably for a spin around the block and then...well...parts unknown...I suppose. I bet he uses that thing to pick up chicks all the time...**

Buffy scanned the crowd...no one she recognised except for Cordelia. Not exactly a sight she currently wanted to recognise.

Clutching her things to her chest, she started toward the front doors. She found herself swamped with people—guys offering to carry her books, girls telling her that they were her 'absolute biggest fan in the world'—all gushing and plain wanting to be close to her...as if they thought she was a figment of their imagination yesterday.

"Buffy! Can you please sign this for me?" A voice said from beside her. An unpopular-seeming girl stood expectantly with a notebook and pen in hand, her short, dirty-blonde hair hung limply around her round face, hope shining in her extraordinarily blue eyes.

Buffy frowned. A few years ago she wouldn't have even given the time of day to a girl such as the one standing beside her. She wasn't that person anymore, though, never again. **Ooh...déjà vu. I swear, I've seen this girl before. And it wasn't from class...** "Sure," Buffy smiled. "What's your name?"

"Marcy," the girl replied, timidly casting her eyes downward.

"Here you go, Marcy," Buffy said, handing back the notebook. "Hey, aren't you in my Advanced Chemistry class? With Doctor Gregory?"

"Yeah. I am. I'm in your homeroom as well," Marcy replied. **How does she remember me? Dr. Gregory hardly even remembers me.** "How did-"

"I have good memory," Buffy beamed before leaving the awestruck girl standing there in favour of checking out the noticeboards for the cheerleading recruit lists.

Marcy Ross looked down at what was written in her notebook. "Dear Marcy, As Gustave said in Ever After, 'You look down to no one'. I always wanted blue eyes. Best wishes, Buffy." Marcy closed the notebook and slipped it back into her backpack. She bit her lip and smiled.

*****

After only a few minutes of them following her around, Buffy was getting irritated with the attention and had persuaded her groupie-guys that she didn't need the help. After all, she'd put all the stuff into her locker, she didn't need the help anymore. And if she really needed it originally, she would've asked Gunn to help. **But no...they just had to- Ooh...noticeboard.**

Buffy moved her finger down the list. "Yes! I got in..." she whispered under her breath.

"Hey, Buffy," a familiar voice said abruptly from behind her, startling Buffy so much that she jumped. Buffy turned around and leant on the noticeboard, clutching her hand to her chest.

"Willow! Don't ever do that again! I get frightened too easily. Scared, no. Frightened, yes," Buffy nodded her head emphatically.

"Aren't they the same?"

"No."

"Well, then, I didn't mean to frighten you," Willow said, frowning worriedly. "I mean, you know, c-come h-here and-"

"Don't worry about it, Willow. I'm just jumpy...I guess," Buffy said. "And hey, I got on the cheerleading squad," she said proudly.

"I didn't think you *wouldn't* make it. I mean, as far as talent goes around here, you probably wouldn't have needed to even audition."

"Is that a good thing?"

"Uh...I'm not entirely sure...but it was meant to be," Willow said cheerfully. "Xander's around here somewhere, but I can't find him. He's got this huge crush on you and I know I wasn't supposed to tell you that so it'd be good if you either forgot or didn't mention it to him or, or, or...something. I'm babbling aren't I? Not good. No more babbling."

Buffy giggled, "You're funny like that. And I kind of figured that whole Xander-crush thing out yesterday when he was looking at me weird the whole time I was talking to him. It was kinda...awkward."

"Elaborate...?"

"He was kinda...all twitchy and nervous. And his eye did this really weird thing...like a wink spasm. It was actually kinda interesting...you know, in a creepy kind of way."

"Oh, that's just classic Xander symptoms of nervousness—specifically around girls," Willow said. She leaned over to whisper in Buffy's ear, "Especially girls he has crushes on," Willow teased.

"Are you trying to set me up with Xander?" Buffy asked, alarmed at the possibility. She was feeling the growing attraction towards Angel and was hoping that maybe he'd ask her out—like, if he broke up with his supposedly evil, bitchy, annoying girlfriend. **Unless he was just joking... Hello? Happy thoughts? Where are you all gone?**

"No! Of course not! I mean, unless you want me to. Which I kinda assumed you wouldn't need me to do, since, you know, you're popular with everyone except the hippies, the Goths and those creepy people who wear 'Tool' t-shirts all the time," Willow said half-jokingly. **Boy, I bet some of them even think they're witches or something. Creepy, delusional people...I think. Actually, it'd be cool to have, like, magical powers. Is magic spelt with a 'k'? Okay, magickal powers then.**

"I won't ask. I don't think I've met any of those types of people yet," Buffy said with a smile.

"I still can't believe you're really coming to this school, being my friend and all," Willow exclaimed excitedly. "I mean, it's one thing to read about you in a magazine, but it's a totally different thing to meet you and all...I *still* think I'm dreaming."

Buffy spotted Oz and Xander approaching them and waved. "Hey."

"Oh my God, I totally forgot!" Willow said, smacking herself in the forehead. "I'm so sorry Oz. You were supposed to give me a ride to school but my mom drove me to school because she wanted to discuss the occult books available in the library for this article-thingumabob she was writing. Or something. I should've called." Willow gave Oz a quick kiss.

"It's okay. I kinda...slept in anyway," Oz said nonchalantly. "Forgiven."

"Really? Good. That's very good," Willow babbled, frantically nodding her head.

"Did you have coffee, Willow?" Xander asked suspiciously. "You know how coffee gets you like this. Not nice."

Buffy laughed, "It's either pre-pop quiz jitters or overdose."

"Overdose?" Xander asked in puzzlement.

"Overdose of caffeine," Buffy said. "You thought I meant...? No way."

"Hold on a sec. You don't...do you?" Xander said, eyes darting from left to right, keeping his focus on Buffy's every movement and gesture.

"Of course not! I'm not one of those...rocker types...with the weed and the groupies and stuff. Just lots of stalkers and screamers."

"Must be tough," Oz stated.

"Oz is in a band," Willow said proudly. "And you're right. I had some coffee this morning...just a little teeny-tiny bit, I swear." 

"Let me guess...you play...bass?" Buffy asked.

"How'd you guess?" Oz asked.

"She's psychic," Xander joked, wriggling his fingers at Oz.

Buffy shrugged, "Not psychic. Just experienced."

"Are you playing tonight?" Willow asked, wrapping her arms around her boyfriend.

"Yeah, eight o'clock." Oz turned his attention to Buffy, "I'd ask you to come, but it could get a bit rowdy. Tight space, lots of young people."

"You're right, I can't. I have to stay at home tonight so that my voice trainer can come all the way from LA to do my weekly," Buffy sighed.

"You have a voice trainer? I thought you were, you know, naturally talented," Xander said nervously. His eye twitched and his hands couldn't seem to keep still—the workings of Xander-nervousness.

"My voice trainer helps me keep it in shape. It's like having a naturally buff bod, but still going to the gym every once in a while," Buffy said. Her voice training sessions were boring, sure, but it was 'necessary for her career', as Giles so kindly put it.

"A naturally buff bod? They exist?"

"You get the idea."

*****

Angel rushed to grab all his things, gym clothes, backpack and...binder. **Oh shit, I forgot to take those pictures outta my binder. Fuck! Oh well, it'll have to do... Shit...**

*****

"...and so x equals to...one and a third," Buffy's maths teacher explained on the board, writing down the working messily in hard-to-read chalk. Buffy had to squint to read the writing—it was too small and too faint.

To her left sat Willow, biting her lip in concentration in the next problem. To her right was Angel, who was struggling to read the writing on the board as well, even with his glasses on. **He looks so...academic with those glasses on... Cute in an educated kind of way, I suppose.**

"Do questions five to seventeen on page thirty-two for homework. I'll be checking it tomorrow," the teacher warned. It was only their first class and Buffy already hated her. **Too much homework...good teacher though.**

"Hey, Buffy, did you get any of what she just taught?" Angel asked, approaching her casually.

"I took notes. I *think* I got what she was saying."

"Good, cos I didn't. My ears—and glasses—fail me. It's really quite tragic."

"You could come over to my place to study, but I have plans," Buffy replied regretfully. **Damn voice trainer...** "You could pop over after dinner and I could go over the notes with you, though."

"Is eight o'clock okay?" Angel asked. He had a date with Darla for tonight, but at least he had a reason to stand her up. A good reason, too.

"Yeah. Just tell the guys at the gate that I'm expecting you. The code word is 'Dawn'," Buffy shrugged. "Security reasons. It's my sister's name."

"You have a sister?"

"Yeah. She spent the summer with my aunt in Illinois during the tour. She doesn't travel with me or any of that stuff. I'm never asked about my family...for some odd reason. I dunno. She just never comes up in interviews, I guess. She's annoying and bratty, I can tell you that much. But, yeah, I have a sister."

"Come on Buffy, we'll be late to class," Willow interrupted.

"Okay, study date, my house, at eight," Buffy said, "I'll see you there."

"Okay," Angel replied. **Plans? She has plans? I wonder who with...**

"By the way, I like your folder."


	8. Stop That Smarty Pants!

**Part 8**

Buffy cast a disgusted glance at the plate sitting in front of her—not in the least bit tantalising, and looking worse than a her mother's meatloaf every second. And that was saying a lot... What was *supposed* to be a cafeteria lunch looked pretty much like dog food with gravy...and brown, unidentified chunky blobs that slipped off the fork like greasy noodles. The odour was...well, to put it simply, it was rather unpleasant.

Buffy put down her fork and tried not to look at the brown mush that the lunch lady seemed to consider edible and put a hand over her mouth. "Okay, eww..."

"I don't think 'eww' really sums it up. It needs more syllables; more gusto. Like...nyah-uh," Xander said, shaking his hands for dramatic effect. "Either way, it's still pretty damned gross."

"Not to go all 'Gone With the Wind' on you all, but I'll never be hungry again. Not after seeing this...what IS this?"

"Fiddle-dee-dee," Xander quipped. "I believe they're calling it Beef Mulligan today," Xander paused, "whatever a mulligan is."

"A mulligan stew is just one of those ones where they chuck in all the ingredients they can find and cross their fingers," Willow said matter-of-factly, "like Caesar Salad."

"I like Caesar Salad," Oz added. "Especially the anchovies. Nice and salty."

"Willow? How did you know that?" Xander asked suspiciously. "Looked it up cos you were just curious?"

Willow smiled sheepishly and sank into a slouch in her chair. "Yep."

"That isn't necessarily a bad thing," Oz said, comfortingly putting his arm around her and kissing her striking, red hair, "at least we now know what a mulligan is."

"We still don't know what's in it though," Buffy added, cringing at her next thought, "but I'm not too sure I want to know."

They all made a face, thinking of all the horrible things that could've been in their food when they had had cafeteria lunches all through their time at school, and thanking their lucky stars that they all now brought their own lunch—made by themselves or otherwise. No matter how 'uncool' it was to bring lunch, it was known that the food at the cafeteria was probably poisoned by the slightly insane lunch lady. Her very much squished-in face was enough to draw suspicion; the permanent crabby scowl attached just became too monotonous to scare them—now she was adding the evil smile on top of the crabby scowl. Very effective.

Buffy pulled her lunchbox out of her bag—environmentally friendly, no paper wastage, very cute—which she had bought when she had gone to Japan the year before. It had a cartoon hamster on it wearing a kimono and a mop of black hair in a style similar to a geisha's.

"Oh would you look at that," Xander mocked light-heartedly, holding the little lunchbox up as if he were standing up in class in first grade doing his Show-and-Tell item, "it's Buffy's teeny-tiny cutesy-wootsy lunchbox." He stuck his bottom lip and tilted his head as if he were a little girl.

"Haha, Mary Kate. Why don't you run along, find Ashley and go play marbles on the train tracks? It'll be fun," Buffy said in a sing-song voice. "Then we can rejoice."

"I'm the Mary!" Xander said in voice that sounded as if he was trying to imitate that of an old woman. Willow and Oz just looked on with puzzled expressions planted firmed on their faces.

"No, *I'm* the Mary," Buffy shot back playfully.

"No. You're the Rhoda," Xander said with a grin.

"Mary and Rhoda? What'd you do? Watch 'Romy and Michelle's High School Reunion'?" Willow asked.

"Let me just point out that that was the stupidest movie I've ever seen," Xander paused. "I just always wanted to do the whole 'Mary and Rhoda' bicker with someone..." Xander shrugged sheepishly. "That was fun. Can we do it again?"

"How'd you get from Mary Kate and Ashley to Mary and Rhoda?" Oz asked, scrunching up his brow in thought.

"Name association."

"Oh...gotcha."

"Anyway, getting back to the point, that is one teeny-tiny lunchbox. You need to eat more. It can't be healthier than my *lovely* Twinkie lunch," Xander said, emptying his brown paper bag onto the table. Out came three packs of Twinkies, all slightly squished. "My mum almost sat on them."

"Try the Beef Mulligan. I hear it's good," Oz quipped, pushing the tray towards Xander.

Xander backed away as far as he could, taking his Twinkies with him. "Thanks, but no thanks. I'm good. With my Twinkies. Junk food of choice... Oh my God, get that thing away from me!" Xander feigned fear of the Beef Mulligan, holding a hand against his forehead melodramatically, and unceremoniously shoving a Twinkie into his mouth at the same time.

"Hey, my lunch is perfectly healthy. I'll have you know that I have more food in my bag and a nice big bottle of Evian. So there, Twinkie Boy. I'm not allowed to have junk food and even if I were, I like Oreos cos they aren't full of fattening cream."

"Isn't the white stuff in Oreos cream?"

"It's icing, Xander."

"Oh... Well...the biscuit part gets stuck on your teeth and makes them look all black and yucky. I still have trauma from a *particular* experience," Xander narrowed his eyes at Willow.

"What? Oh! The Oreo Incident? I remember now. That was so funny," Willow said calmly, before being unable to hold it any longer and bursting out laughing. "Oh my God, that was...it was just classic."

Xander glared at his red headed friend, "Laugh now. I'll get you back for that one of these days..."

"Yeah, and that day shall come. On the day that you decide you hate Twinkies."

"Never! I'll never hate Twinkies! How can anyone hate Twinkies..." Xander's question fizzled out as he realised what Willow had just said. "Hey!"

"I burned the photo, okay? Into the blistering hot fireplace during the blistering hot Hanukkah of '98," Willow said, smiling at the memory. "Remember? It was the year that you tripped over your own feet while doing the Snoopy Dance."

"Umm...no need to embarrass me more, Will," Xander said, stuffing another fattening yellow bar of cakey Twinkie goodness into his mouth.

"Sorry. It was just so funny...alright, I won't say anything."

"What's the Snoopy Dance?"

"Don't tell her, Will."

"Tell me!"

"Just tell her."

"Can I tell her?"

"No! Please, God, no! I still need revenge on so many things that I've lost count. Especially for the time I fell asleep during Bio and you made sleepy-me volunteer to be the make-believe ant."

"The antennae looked so cute!"

"Tell me!"

"Oh God..."

"You eat sushi for lunch?"

*****

Buffy slumped into the chair (or, rather, her stool) and almost collapsed with the pain in her throat and her gut. All the laughing had done bad things to her. **Oh shit...and I have voice training this afternoon! Fuck! Bury me right now before Jenny does... Although, all those stories were so funny...definitely worth it.** Buffy took out her books and pencil case and folded her hands on the table, awaiting the arrival of the rest of the class as well as Dr Gregory. **Argh. Mini-quizzy-thingo...why'd you have to be on today?**

"Hey, Buffy. Willow," Angel greeted them each with a nod, setting down his folder and opening it to hide the pictures on the front and back covers. "Don't laugh," he warned Buffy. "I was in a rush this morning," he said, pursing his lips.

"Really? Maybe we should carpool you then," Buffy said, trying not to smile at the oddly attractive notion. Maybe she could even somehow force Gunn to ride up front with the driver...

"I sometimes drive, sometimes I walk," Angel replied flatly, considering the idea of the interesting position of himself and Buffy *alone* in a limo and remembering that she had that good-looking boyfriend of hers. He wasn't really into the cheating types—that being the basis of his dislike for Darla.

"I can tell you're very enthusiastic about that arrangement," Buffy said sarcastically, keeping eye contact with his constantly darting eyes.

"I am," Angel gulped as her piercing green eyes kept contact with his own. His gaze travelled across her very scarcely made-up face, down the seemingly endless expanse of creamy, silky skin of her neck and chest, and finally down at his twitching feet.

"Well at least consider my offer," Buffy said.

"Okay, I will," Angel said, giving up the argument. No need to push it towards the 'why not' end of the scale. "I see you got onto the cheerleading squad. Then you can cheer me and the boys on when we play next, next week. Or maybe it was next, next, NEXT week. I'm not too sure."

"Speaking of, how'd the tryouts go yesterday?" Buffy asked.

"Don't ask," Angel shook his head, with a slight smile.

"That speaks volumes."

"Good afternoon class. I'm sorry for my lateness, I was actually held up by next door's science class. The substitute was having trouble with the, uh, science," Dr Gregory said as he organised his things while having to fix his glasses after every other word. His whole demeanour was frazzled and disorganised.

The class laughed, knowing whom he had been referring to. Natalie French, an elderly substitute teacher who had been wandering the halls not knowing her way. She had to ask about half a dozen people for directions before she found the room she was supposed to be in. And on top of it all, she wasn't a very good science teacher. Dr Gregory had considered inviting the class to join his, but remembered that his class was supposed to be having their test. Not exactly the best working environment, not to mention that the other class were freshmen and the entire lack of bench space. The Advanced Chem class was already bursting, even with the renovation of the labs to allow for larger classes.

"My memory might be failing me, but I do believe that we have a quiz scheduled for today, though. I hope you've all studied," Dr Gregory teased them. "This is just to check that you understood the revision that I gave you yesterday, so the marks won't go to your reports or anything like that, so don't panic. It'll also help me to see standard of your understanding for this subject for those who were in Mr. McNamara's class last year."

Half the class breathed out a sigh of relief—those who hadn't studied, and those who had been in worry-hyper-mode. Either way, it was a relief to everyone.

"You'll have 20 mins and then I'll collect your papers," Dr Gregory announced as he put a test paper on everyone's desks. "Pen-only please."

Buffy spotted Marcy Ross waving from her desk near the front of the room. Buffy smiled back and turned to look at the test that had been placed in front of her. **Wow. I didn't even need to study. Phew...**

"Principal Snyder tells me you're kind of a genius," Dr Gregory said to Buffy, before placing a test paper in front of Angel. "You may begin."

**Huh? I'm not THAT smart...the last time I checked.**

19 minutes and twenty questions later, Buffy sat quietly in her seat, looking out the window—partially in boredom, partially in curiosity. In the time it had taken for them to do the test, it had somehow started to rain and a rainbow had formed. It had been so long since she'd seen a rainbow. The travelling and working and performing and the whole hectic shebang had prevented her from really doing anything else.

"Okay, pens down."

The clatter of pens hitting the desk and the loud sighs of those stretching their arms after the relatively hard 'quiz'. Fingers cracked and many had started chatting to those near them. The boom of thunder came from outside, causing many to jump at the abrupt noise.

Everyone handed their papers in as Dr Gregory made his way around the classroom.

"That was hard," Willow finally said.

"I second that," Angel agreed.

"It wasn't THAT hard..." Buffy mumbled truthfully.

"Okay then, you're just abnormally smart," Willow commented.

"When did it start to rain?" Angel asked, peering out the window.

"Didn't notice," Willow and Buffy said in unison.

"Well at least we won't have to have practise this afternoon..." Angel said cheerfully.

"How's your arm now?" Willow asked, inadvertently leaving Buffy out of the loop.

"It's good. My physio says I can play as soon as next week."

"That's good! I told you it'd be okay for the new season," Willow beamed.

"What happened to your arm?" Buffy finally asked. She had checked out both his arms and found neither hide nor hair of what they could be talking about. No scars, bandages, or anything like that.

"Fracture. In my left arm," Angel turned his arm in an awkward position for her to see the 2-and-a-half inch scar that ran along his forearm.

"Ouch. Was that from the falling off the house?"

Angel chuckled. "No. That's a completely different thing altogether."

The bell rung, signalling the end of school. It had started to rain again. And being California, it was pretty much a given that nobody had brought umbrellas. Which kinda left a whole lot of people in a rut... Why did it have to rain?

"Ugh. I have cheerleading practise..." Buffy mumbled, grabbing her bag and slinging it over her shoulder.

"At least *you* won't have to walk home..." Willow said disdainfully. "Oh, wait, Oz can drive me," Willow said excitedly. "I guess it won't be so bad after all. I have to go...find Oz. Bye!" With that, she hurried out of the classroom with a spring in her step.

"Need a ride home?"

Angel shook his head. "It's okay. I'll wait it out."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Okay... See you later then." Buffy spun on her heel and followed Willow's lead. **What's that guy's problem? Who does he think he is? A guy... I mean, I can take a hint, but that was just...cold. Guys... They're always like that. Hot one minute (okay, metaphorically, cos Angel's always hot...BUFFY!), cold the next. Who do they think they are? A couple of guys...**


	9. Sometimes Unexpected Things Happen

**Part 9**

Buffy shivered slightly as she shoved her things into the locker. The weather had gotten chilly since it had started to rain. She pulled out a jumper from her bag and slipped it on, carefully making sure not to mess up the high ponytail she'd only just finished putting up. **Shit. I'll probably have to take this off later... Oh well, I'll get Gunn to mind it for me. He'll just be sitting in the bleachers all on his lonesome anyway. He really, really needs a life.**

Buffy smiled to herself as she followed the other girls out to the gymnasium where the cheerleading squad were supposed to gather whenever the weather turned nasty. Not that that happened very often, of course. She waved discreetly to Gunn, who had shown up promptly and had already taken a front-row seat in the bleachers. A few other spectators were seated all over the bleachers, but not much more than a dozen.

Buffy spotted Cordelia out of the corner of her eye. The brunette was carrying a large cardboard box in her arms, with another girl following with a similar box in her own arms. On each box, the letter 'U' was written in thick, black permanent marker.

**Uh-huh. Just as 'A' is for 'apple', 'U' is for 'uniforms'...fun.**

Excited cheerleaders gathered around Cordelia whispering among themselves. Buffy felt herself being yanked by the arm through the crowd by persons unknown; someone who had very deadly fingernails. Buffy was about to scream for Gunn's help, but was surprised to find that it had been Cordelia, dragging her to the front.

Buffy felt like the first-place-winning pumpkin pie at a county fair, the way those girls were staring at her with wide eyes. Obviously some of them had only heard the rumours and not seen the real-deal yet and were shaken up by, well, her presence.

"Could everyone please gather around?" Cordelia called out to those spread around the gym, tying their shoes, drinking sports drinks or whatnot. She clapped her hands loudly to draw their attention (and almost deafening Buffy with the snappish loudness—an amazing feat, since Buffy had been exposed to high decibels of screaming many times before). **Great, just what I need. I should've listened to Giles... Hey! Why the hell did I just think that? I never listen to Giles. AT least, not as a rule.**

"For those who didn't show up to help out at the tryouts yesterday," Cordelia said pointedly, "Buffy tried out and blew us all away with her performance. And I believe that the people who were in charge of the music and choreography are a bit on the embarrassed side," Cordelia joked, rousing laughter from those who understood. "So, the point is, we have the best of the best, so we're gonna kick ass this year!"

The team cheered as Buffy smiled awkwardly. **Oh yay...now I feel like an instrument of their supremacy. Great. Just what I wanted out of this experience...**

Cordelia sifted around one of the cardboard boxes, successfully pulling out a clipboard. On the clipboard was a list of names on a grid. "Okay, calm down everyone. We have to have roll call before we can hand out our brand, spanking, new uniforms."

Chatter rose from the girls again.

"Oh, and by the way, they'll cost you. And did I mention that we only have 3 sizes? Extra small, small and medium."

*****

Angel stared forlornly at the downpour. It was too far to walk, definitely too long to wait out, and too much of a hassle to call someone. Not to mention embarrassing. Plus, his mobile didn't have any reception. Angel kept busy by wandering the not-so-empty halls of the school, occasionally passing people who were also stranded in the sudden rainstorm, wasting their time away.

Angel rounded the corner (something he had wished to take back), passing two girls having a heated discussion on the sale at Nordstrom's. His body collided with that of Darla's. She seemed to have been looking someone—probably him.

"Darla," he stated flatly. "Looking for me, I suppose?"

"I've been looking for you all day! I asked every single person on the team if they'd seen you and then when I went where they said, you weren't there," Darla said, bouncing and gesturing as she spoke. She was typical Californian airhead. The only thing separating her from the 'in' crowd at SHS was the size of Daddy's wallet; or in her case, Mommy's.

Darla's father had left her mother for an 18-year-old stripper from a bar in the bad side of town called 'The Cheetah'. Darla had been in there once when she had fallen into a drunken stupor after a particularly wild party. As expected, the bar's patrons were old businessmen, some cheating on their wives, some were just horny. What gave Darla's stomach the heave-ho, was the lovely faux cheetah fur used on all the chairs, sofas and even parts of the walls.

Darla's mother hadn't been sober in eight years. But then again, she was hardly ever sober before her bastard of a husband had left either.

"I was on detention," Angel bluffed.

"Then why do I get the impression that you're avoiding me?" Darla asked suspiciously. She narrowed her eyes at him, inspecting his every movement and reaction.

"Now why would you think that?"

"I know what your mother and her little country club friends think of me," she spat out. She stepped closer and made eye contact with him. She had always thought that she had been a good judge of character. Of course, Darla's beliefs were dashed when her "beloved" father had left her on her own with her mother. From that day on, she had learnt quickly not to trust anyone.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Angel said, resting his hands on both her slim shoulders, partly to keep her a safe distance from himself, and partly to restrain her from inflicting any pain on him whatsoever. He had heard that the girl had a hand and a mouth like a crack whip. Not exactly very good imagery, but it had taught him to be careful of the Little Girl Who Cried 'Rapist'. A nickname given to her by Larry, after an...incident. The case had been dismissed because they had no evidence at all. No witnesses, no nothing.

"Okay, the why do I get the feeling that you're lying to me?" Darla asked, indignantly planting her hands on her slim hips.

"I'm not, okay? What made you even think that?" Angel asked innocently, reining in the sarcasm that was threatening to escape.

"Make it up to me, then. Bronze. Date. 8 o'clock sharp," Darla said, giving him a peck on the cheek and strode off, leaving Angel no room for objection.

**Why do I always get myself into shit like this? Stupid rain—it's all your fault. Great, now Darla's literally driving me insane.**

He sighed. What was he going to do now? Study date with Buffy or a date with the ever-wretched Darla...what a stumper. The only problem being that stupid bet. He would prove them wrong, that was for sure. Maybe he could be super nice, so it'd seem as if he was dumping her for the sake of it, when the time came around for the dumping to occur. The victory would be...bliss. **Nah. She'd probably have me shot.**

Angel quickly stole a glance through a nearby classroom's window; it was still raining rather heavily outside. Suddenly, he heard a quiet burst of music playing—it was oh, so soft—coming from a distance. Angel estimated that the noise was coming from the school gymnasium. What the hell was it? There were sounds of sneakers squeaking as they ran along the basketball court, but not really in a hurried way. So, it wasn't who he thought it could've been...then who was it?

**Of course! Cheerleading practice! How could I forget? I missed the tryouts yesterday, might as well go today...** Angel hurried towards the sound of the music. It wasn't long until he got inside and found the same black guy that he had seen Buffy kiss the day before, watching the girls with a cheeky smile plastered on his face. He was seated at the very top of the bleachers and looked as if he were checking the girls out; either that or he was checking out Buffy. In a brand new, short-skirted, tight-shirted SHS cheerleading uniform. Angel snapped out of it and raised his hand to his chin, absently checking for traces of drool. He almost tripped over his own feet as he walked. Unfortunately for him, that wasn't as bad as it was going to be...

"Angel! How nice of you to drop by!" Cordelia exclaimed, waving him over. What was he going to do? He couldn't very well run away. **Of all the luck. Darla AND Cordelia in the space of only two minutes.**

Angel smiled sheepishly and shrugged, trying to keep a calm composure. "Wouldn't miss it." He shoved his hands in his pockets. It just got a heck of a lot colder in there. Not to mention the disturbing number of girls who seemed as if they were just about ready to lick their lips. The only person who he hadn't caught the attention of was Buffy. **Ha. How am I ever going to have a chance with her if she doesn't even notice me? Not dismissing the fact that she already has an older, reliable-looking boyfriend. Am I reliable-looking?**

"Well it's always a pleasure when *you* drop by," Cordelia flirted shamelessly. Three years and counting, and she still hadn't gotten the picture. Angel was beginning to suspect that maybe the girl didn't have a brain at all, let alone half.

"No need to flatter me. How's it going ladies?" Angel asked the rest of the team, eagerly turning his attention away from Cordelia. She shrugged at the brush-off. Denial could sometimes be the best medicine—something she didn't really have much experience with actually.

A chorus of positive answers fluttered from left to right (as did the batting of eyelashes).

"Really? Well I won't interrupt any further. Please, continue." Angel settled on a place in the very front row—a good vantage point to observe Buffy from—and quickly found that shaking Cordelia off his leg was much, much harder than with Darla. Not that he was a novice at that either.

"So...do you have plans tonight?" Cordelia asked, flashing him the brightest smile she could possibly flash. She played with the hem of her skirt, purposely exposing more and more flesh. Angel felt like puking. Enough with the come-ons. And the fake tan.

"Yeah, I actually have two things going on. I don't know which one I'll end up going to," Angel answered truthfully.

"Sounds...busy. But remember, if you can't decide, I'll be at the Bronze." Cordelia finally left him alone, turning with a flick of her hair and (in Angel's opinion) a not-so-seductive sway in her hips. They had grown up together; all through elementary school and junior high, Cordelia had been...that snobby girl that you always had to talk your friend out of getting involved with. The thought of the two of them, dating, was enough to make Angel's stomach turn upside down and tie itself into a fancy knot.

"Buffy's it is then..."

*****

Buffy had been watching him from across the room, inspecting his flickering gaze when she thought he wasn't looking and making sure not to make eye contact with him.

If she did, she didn't think she'd be able to stop.

Buffy bent over to fix her shoelaces; they had become undone while they were practising the basic cheers. As she tied the offending laces, she peeked—as inconspicuously as she could—under her arm.

Her gaze connected with his.

The first word that came to her head? Magic.

There was something about his eyes, even from such a distance that she felt attracted to. Like a magnetic field she couldn't escape however much she tried to.

"Buffy?" Cordelia's annoyed voice interrupted her temporary freeze-frame. "Are you ready yet?"

Buffy finished tying her shoes and nodded. She'd tried and tried but she could not find a single endearing quality in the bitch at all. **Meow...** She didn't seem to respect or even *like* anyone except herself. And Angel, but he obviously wasn't interested. **He has a girlfriend anyway. I'm sure they're just having a rough spot... Don't kid yourself anymore, Buffy, he's...being an unreadable...guy...person.**

Buffy frowned and resumed her position. **What am I gonna do? Tie myself up to stop myself from coming onto to him? Maybe I should cancel...**

"5, 6, 7, 8," Cordelia counted audibly as the first bars of the song played. Some upbeat poppy music blared from the speakers once again; it was one of those songs that you liked the first two or three times you hear it and then find it irritating afterwards. They'd played it at least five or six times already and Buffy was just about ready to kick whoever it was that picked it.

Buffy tuned out the noise and moved without thinking, focusing on other—more important—things...well, a little bit more important (at the moment). **You idiot! You know he likes you. You're just afraid. Scaredy cat, scaredy cat! ...Great, now I have an inner voice?**

Not realising that it was already the end of the routine, Buffy continued, dancing obliviously. She improvised, with...what the hell? Buffy stopped.

"Oh my God! That looked so good!" One of the younger girls burst out.

Loud chatter erupted among the girls, only to be silenced once again by one Miss Bitch-of-a-Girl Chase. She clapped her hands, capturing the attention of the squad. They all stopped; not a single peep escaped a single one of the usually-loud girls' mouths. It was certainly a sight to behold.

"Fine, it looked good. But, unfortunately, the routine has to be a certain length. Sorry," Cordelia hid her satisfied smile. No one would dare defy her, she was sure of it. The power was...delectable. She'd tried to like Buffy, be nice to her and all, but...well... They just didn't click too well. However, Cordelia was determined to become friends with Buffy. This could be her only chance at international superstardom! **What am I talking about? I don't need help from HER. I can make it there all by myself!**

"Can we have a show of hands please?" A small voice asked from the back of the pack. "All in favour of leaving it the way it is?"

Cordelia found that she was the only one with her hand up. Buffy watched with a satisfied smile.

"All in favour of changing it?" Buffy asked.

They all raised their hands, including the whole group of Cordettes that had made it on the squad. Loyalty becoming an issue, Buffy could sense it. **Not that there's much loyalty there anyway. And I speak from experience.**

"Majority rules. It's getting a bit late, and there's a break in the storm," Buffy pointed out the sunshine pouring through the windows, "so I guess we'll work on it at the next practice."

They all cheered, and hurried to gather their stuff so that they could go home. Who knew how long the good weather would last for? It could be anywhere between 5 minutes to being the end of the storm altogether.

Buffy quickly made up her mind. Jogging towards Angel, she noticed he looked as if he was going to leave. Alone. "Wait! Angel!"

"What is it?"

"Um...about tonight..." Buffy started, but was interrupted abruptly by Gunn's coughing.

"Um...sorry, but I have...new, unexpected plans." Buffy bit her lip, "You understand, right?"

"Yeah, sure. I'm sure I'll...figure it out myself." Angel was disappointed. She was ditching him for her boyfriend, probably.

"You want a ride? Cos, we could just swing by your place cos it's so close..." Buffy suggested.

"No, it's okay. I can walk."

"But—" Buffy protested.

"It's. Okay." Angel said, emphasising each word.

"Well, then, I guess I'll see you tomorrow. Bye," Buffy said, and dragged Gunn off so he could wait outside the girls' locker room while she changed. **I'm an idiot...I sure am.**


	10. Suspicious Yet?

**Part 10**

"You're late," Giles stated as Buffy walked through the door. In his hands were two or three books that looked to her as if they were older than Giles. Twice over. At his heels, Thor followed like the little puppy dog that he was. Upon seeing Buffy, he barked happily and his tail wagged furiously.

Thor leapt towards her and nearly made her fall over, almost knocking her into Gunn at the same time.

Buffy laughed at Thor's little antics and gently bent down to pick up the overly excited pooch. "Aren't I usually?"

Giles considered it momentarily. "I suppose. But it's still no excuse." Giles blinked a few times before he removed his glasses and polished them with the handkerchief that he always kept in the breast pocket of his waistcoat. Giles' handkerchiefs were always a freshly-laundered, and always a crisp white in colour. And that was only one of Giles' funny habits... "Oh, and Buffy? Clean your room. It looks as if there was a stampede in there when Francine brought back your...whatever it was from the dry cleaner's." One of his many habits just HAD to be an exceptionally good memory. Like an elephant's, really.

"Okay...I'll remember that," Buffy muttered as Giles left for parts unknown. You could literally get lost in that house. If you could even call it a house. **Maybe I can bribe Gunn to clean it for me.**

Buffy turned around. He stood there, in all his black pride.

His eyes widened. "Uh-uh. No way. I seen your room. No way am I gonna clean that that thing. Not even if I get to see your underwear drawer. Why don't you ask loverboy to do it? I'm sure he'd be willing and able."

"What? No..." Buffy paused, "Did you just call Angel 'loverboy'?"

"He thinks you're gorgeous," Gunn teased in a sing-song voice, "he wants to kiss you, he wants to date you, he wants to love you, he wants to marry you."

"You need to get over your 'Miss Congeniality' obsession," Buffy replied flatly, "cos I'm now WAY beyond disturbed."

"A kick-ass woman, comedy AND lots of beautiful girls in bathing suits. What's not to like?" Gunn asked innocently.

Buffy just rolled her eyes. **Guys...! Always thinking with their dicks...**

*****

At 5:45 that night, the doorbell rang, loudly sounding throughout the much-too-large house. Buffy, expecting and anticipating seeing her voice trainer again rushed to get the door.

Upon opening the door, she found the person she had least wanted to see. They hadn't seen each other for almost three years.

"Hi Buffy. Missed me?"

*****

Angel slumped around his house, wearily going about his chores and doing his homework.

"What the fuck is wrong with you now?" Spike asked, only caring half-heartedly.

"Gee, and I thought you were smarter than that..." Angel muttered as he threw his heavy maths textbook on the dining table along with a small pile of other books.

"Homework?"

"No," Angel replied, leaning tiredly back into his chair.

"The football team."

"No," Angel replied again. He was already growing tired of his stepbrother's irritating tendencies.

"Erection problems?"

"William!"

"You dimwit," Faith interrupted. "It starts with a 'G'," she hinted, handing Spike a glass of root beer.

"Umm...grades?" Spike tried uncertainly.

"GIRLS!" Faith finally gave in. "And I thought that that was the only word you even knew how to spell except your own name and 'sex'..."

"Hey. I'll have you know that I never failed a single spelling test in elementary school," Spike stated proudly. "I can spell 'fuck' and 'you' and 'bitch'," Spike grinned at his girlfriend.

"Hello? I have problems here and all you two seem to want to do is play childish spelling games," Angel reminded them.

"Sorry," Spike apologised smugly. "So, how is it going with Darla?"

"I bumped into her this afternoon," Angel said, opening his maths books, "apparently I'm going to the Bronze tonight. She left before I could tell her otherwise."

"And...?" Spike prompted.

"And I don't want to go. Cordelia will be there."

Spike burst out laughing. "Two words that'll make it ALL better: 'good', 'luck'."

"Gee, thanks for the help..."

"Why don't you just break up with her?" Faith asked suddenly. "If she's as terrible as all that, then wouldn't it not be worth it?"

"Male pride," Spike stated simply and took another gulp of his root beer.

"What he said," Angel said, scribbling furiously in his book.

"Well then what the heck is the problem? It's not as if your dare is as bad as Billy Rowland's was," Faith said casually as she slid into a nearby armchair.

"What was his dare?"

"He had to kiss his mother..." Faith replied.

"How's that bad?" Angel asked, rejoining the conversation.

"...On the mouth."

Spike sent root beer spraying all over the expensive Persian rug under his feet. "Oh my God! Did you have to fucking tell us that? Now I'm as dead as Sigourney Weaver's career for getting this stuff on the carpet...oh well." He shrugged and took another gulp from his glass, emptying it.

"Did he go through with it?" Angel asked, holding his breath (as was Spike).

"Of course he did," Faith said. "He was drunk at the time."

Angel and Spike breathed a sigh of relief.

Angel tuned out and back to his homework. It was boring and useless and totally something he didn't want to be doing. His attention flickered out the window where he saw the faint figure of a girl, chatting with the security guy at the front gate. She was let through and hesitated when she lifted a finger to press the doorbell. Her hair was dark, wavy and she seemed to be fairly tall. Definitely not Cordelia.

**Okay, so maybe I was wrong in assuming that her 'plans' were with a guy... It could still be right though.**

Angel continued to watch, eyes widening when the door flew open, revealing the same black guy he had seen just today and the day before that. **That's strange...**

*****

"Umm, who are you?" Gunn asked, wracking his memory for the identity of the brunette girl standing in front of him. She was pretty: bright smile, confident and looked, well, rich.

"Who are you?" she shot back. "I need to talk to Buffy. I can see you hiding up there!"

"Again, I ask. Who are you?" Gunn asked again.

"Jennifer," Buffy's voiced hitched at the name that slipped out of her lips. "What are you doing here?"

"What? You're not even going to say 'hi'? How rude..." Jennifer commented bitterly.

"Hi. Are you jealous now?" Buffy asked caustically. Good ol' Jen had betrayed her all those years ago, sneaking behind her back to steal Tyler from her. She had been her supposed best friend. More like a conniving, bitching, stealing, cheating, trampy, jealous traitor.

"Why would I be? I live in a place in Bel Air now...I have the sweetest boyfriend on the face of the earth...I'm not stressed...I got nice teachers this year. How about you?" Jennifer raised an eyebrow, inwardly snickering away.

"Bel Air, huh? Prime real estate. I didn't like it. It was so overrated..." Buffy replied. She hurried down to the bottom of the stairs and grabbed Jennifer by the arm and slammed the door closed. "I like it here."

"Surprised to see me?"

"Not really. I've been expecting it for a long time now. Steal anyone else's boyfriend lately?"

"Tyler was hardly your boyfriend at the time anyway. You didn't spend time with him, talk to him on the phone or any of that stuff. If you didn't do any of that stuff, then who would?" Jennifer said innocently. "And if you wanted to know, we broke up about three months later. He moved to Massachusetts."

"Really? I bet he's really kicking himself now."

*****

Angel continued to watch as the girl was pulled forcefully into the house. **Strange...**

He wanted to know what was going on and he wanted to know what the truth was.

Angel closed his books and grabbed his jacket from the closet at the front door. He hastily put it on and grabbed his keys from next to the phone. Slamming the door behind him, he started heading in the direction of Buffy's house. He needed answers and he needed them now.

*****

Jennifer laughed. "I bet he is. Probably everyday, even."

Buffy grimaced, sitting down on whatever was convenient. Apparently the most convenient thing at the moment was the second step of the grand staircase. At least it was carpeted.

"Look, I'm sorry," Jennifer apologised suddenly, startling Buffy out of her trance. "For...well, everything."

"Then what was with the bitchy attitude before?" Buffy asked suspiciously. "You don't just come around looking to apologise and begin by being bitchy. It doesn't work that way."

"Honestly? Not a clue."

"I think I should sleep on it, see how a more rational me will handle it. You know?"

"Yeah, I know," Jen nodded. "Well, I should...go. I don't think I really feel welcome anymore. Or at all," Jennifer lowered her eyes to the ground and turned to leave.

"Wait!" Buffy halted her former best friend. "You should visit again. When you have time."

"Okay," Jennifer beamed, "I will. Bye." And with that, she let herself out.

"Now, where were we?" Gunn asked as soon as the door clicked closed.

"You were going to teach me how to dance 'properly'. And then you were saying how we can't slow dance to The Actual Tigers and I was saying that it IS possible," Buffy reminded him. "Remember?"

"Fine, fine. Put on the damn CD..." Gunn agreed reluctantly, ushering her to go get the CD with a wave of his hand.

"Yay! I win," Buffy beamed. She quickly turned the stereo on and pressed play.

"You usually do."

//_It's hard to be seven  
It's hard to be forty  
I hear it's hard to reach heaven  
It's too hard to be holy_// 

"This song sounds weird," Gunn commented as he showed her how to hold her arms.

"Well I guess you just have different musical tastes, so...uh," Buffy stuck out her tongue and concentrated on copying Gunn's steps.

//_It's hard to be ageless  
It's hard to be phoney  
It's hard to be faceless  
It's hard to be lonely_// 

"One, two, three, one, two, three, one, two, three," Gunn counted rhythmically as he moved. Buffy mimicked his steps uncertainly, nodding her head discreetly to the beat of his counting. She never thought it could be so hard to slow dance; it something she'd never really had the opportunity to do because of her singing career.

"I never thought it would be so hard," Buffy commented quickly, struggling not to lose her rhythm. **One, two, three, one, two, three.**

//_Well maybe I ought to say that I'm not  
And what have I got left to say?_// 

"It's easier when you're younger. My mother taught me when I was eight. I *very* reluctant at the time," Gunn laughed. "You're doing well."

"Really? Cos right now I'm getting the impression that I suck at this," Buffy said, tipping her head to one side.

//_Well I could write a long book about time and space  
I could write a long book about time and space  
We couldn't get along  
Time and space  
If I could only say so long_// 

"Well with more practise..." Gunn teased.

Buffy laughed and punch her bodyguard in the arm playfully. "Stop doing that! You're joking about my inability to slow dance. It's no joking matter."

//_It's hard to be Jacob  
It's hard to be Betty  
It's hard to just wake up  
And it's hard to get ready_// 

*****

Angel watched from outside, gazing longingly through the window from where he was standing on her front stoop. He watched as she joked as she danced with the lucky guy that Angel wished he were in the shoes of. **Yeah, well, you don't always get what you want. I thought I learnt that lesson already.**

He turned and left, kicking up gravel as he walked. Back to his house...where his stepbrother and his girlfriend were probably enjoying themselves or screwing around. As usual.

*****

Buffy paused as she saw a figure walking down the driveway and disappearing beyond the gate. She shrugged. It was probably Jennifer, dawdling.

Just a minute later, a car drove in through the gates. **Miss Calendar's here! 6 o'clock. Right on time.**

"Finally, Jenny's here," Buffy said, breaking away from Gunn to open the door for her. She needed advice and since Jenny was the only close female friend she had in a 100 mile radius, she was also Buffy's only hope.

"Hey Buffy," Miss Calendar greeted her pleasantly as she shrugged off her coat. "Have y—"

"I need help."

*****

Angel glanced down at his watch. 6:02. **Well I'm not staying cooped up doing homework on a night like this. Not with those two going at it like bunnies while mom and dad are out for the evening. Bronze it is.**

_AN: The song is "Time and Space" by The Actual Tigers and in this story, pretend that Jennifer looks like Darcy from Bring It On._


	11. Everyone Makes Their Mistakes

**Part 11**

Two weeks later—after Angel had endured Hell for the sake of his manly pride—he had successfully dumped Darla. There had been crying and clinging and hateful (and ineffective) punching of the upper arms, but it was pure glory on his part. After all she had put him through—helping her mother puke onto the next door neighbours' vegetable patch, having to wait for her while she was paying her dues in detention, her insufferable conversation skills (and nauseating voice) and her numerous bad habits; too many to mention.

When he had gotten home that day, he was practically bouncing off the walls. Spike had looked at him like he had gone crazy—not that he minded. He was just happy to have finally completed his dare. He had never failed to complete a dare in his life and he wasn't about to start now. Not to mention his mother's pleasure on hearing the news.

During the two weeks, he had tried to stay as distant from Buffy as possible, always keeping at an arm's length with her. She'd also seemed to keep away from him, as if a little bump or accidental brushing of hands were the worst crime she could ever commit. He had even begun to wonder what kind of person she really was if she seemed to be so outgoing and not-shy in the public eye, but so...conserved and meek when you got to know her a bit more. Still, it had only been two weeks—two fairly short weeks at that.

Angel wanted nothing more to confront her with it, but was afraid it would seem too much like an interrogation or as if he were forcing her into something. That wasn't the kind of foot he wanted to get off with her. He just wasn't that kind of guy. He was one of the most popular guys at school, but he tried not to make a habit of being a "campus stud" as many liked to call it. Pfft, like the atmosphere could handle any more testosterone gun-slinging...

*****

A week after the glorious dumping of Darla was to be the first game of his team's season. They'd been training non-stop ever since the summer break and were psyched about finally being able to play a real game. The feeling rubbed off on all the newbies as well, even though they'd only been a part of the team for a few short weeks.

It was all ducky with Angel; the more of that good old "team spirit", the better.

"So, Angel, ready for tonight's game?" Cordelia asked out of nowhere. He had not even seen her approaching, his thoughts mellowing him into a trance-like state. He hadn't even had the chance to run. All his friends surrounded him, punching on the arm or laughing knowingly.

"As ready as I'll ever be. Besides, aren't we playing that really crappy team from two counties over?" Angel shrugged. To him, Cordelia was and had always been the so-called "village bicycle", just not in such a crude, Austin Powers kind of way.

"So...do you have anything planned afterward?" Cordelia asked hopefully. She'd been chasing him for, like, ever, but he never seemed to get the idea.

But in reality, he *did* know. And he was eager to shake it off. "Actually? I do have something. Sorry Cordy. I guess you're just gonna have to have fun without me," he said, trying not to let out the sarcasm imbedded deep in his need to get rid of the girl.

"Oh," Cordelia was disappointed. She knew he'd probably turn her down, but she had still hoped that...oh well. "Okay, well...I'll see you at the game then. Bye."

After she left, Angel let out a sigh of relief and laughed along with the guys on his team about what had transpired between himself and Cordelia. She was being made a mockery of, but frankly, Angel couldn't care less. He had thought she'd learnt her lesson when she had once tried to bully Faith, but he'd been wrong. Her persistence was driving him insane—not *quite* literally, fortunately.

Angel let his mind wander—as well as his eyes—finally settling on the one and only Miss Buffy Summers. The embodiment of the girl of his dreams (and the dreams of countless other young men...and hopefully not older men). It was unbearable for him to keep at a distance; at the moment he was only sure of two things about her—other than her name, age, address and all that other general stuff—1) she was a mystery, and 2) she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen OR met.

He also knew that she was nice, funny, smart, charming, amicable, pleasant, charismatic, and a whole long list of other adjectives that could easily have been part of his vocab study for his SAT's but currently couldn't think of. The only adjective he could think of was 'dubious', which he certainly couldn't use to describe Buffy. **Okay, then damn my 'dubious'...ness.**

He was also dubious about whether or not that black guy she was always around was really her boyfriend. Even his mother complained that always seemed to just *assume* things. Things like getting a baby brother (instead he got Spike, the ever-annoying stepbrother), having pizza for dinner (instead they went to Italy) and that he was in trouble every time he was sent to the principal's office (which was he actually usually right about). It was all part of the growing up process—he'd always assumed—and old habits die hard.

*****

After hard work and intensive practising, the cheerleading team had become the best they could be in the three weeks they had been preparing. With perseverance and the menace of Queen C, they had somehow put together a routine for halftime and had even gotten around to learning a few cheers off by heart.

Buffy had spilled her guts to her voice-trainer-slash-quasi-therapist about everything. Jenny had been rash as usual and suggested that she go for it and make the first move. Buffy had turned pale at the thought. She was an old-fashioned sort of girl who liked having doors opened for her, her chairs pulled out and being walked to her door, not to mention, waiting for the guy to make the first move. It might very well have had something to do with being assigned to reading too many Jane Austen novels by her tutor over the years.

When Jenny offered to visit more often, Buffy jumped at the chance to have her around. Although her friendship with Willow was becoming stronger by the day, she still felt that the red head was still a bit wigged out about her fame; like she expected to wake up at any moment or that she had regressed into a different mental state and had left behind her real world where she was in a coma. The girl *was* rather colourful, after all. She had jumped at the chance for Jenny to be around more often as a close friend, Buffy had an inkling that the stuffy and proper Giles had developed a thing for her 30-something and still lively voice trainer.

But right now she had more to worry about than a possible romance between her manager and voice trainer.

"What?" Buffy exclaimed. 'Shouted' would've been more precise, but there's no need to go into to details...

"Some, uh, information leaked out into the press recently," her mother said gently from the other end of the line. "Nothing to worry about though, honey, we'll set them straight as soon as we can."

"They know where I am," Buffy stated with a sigh. **Great, just great. Lemme guess who leaked. Could it be my good friend Jennifer? The one who stole my boyfriend in freshman year and returned some weeks ago with a lopsided case?** "Tell them I'm in Bermuda or something, I don't know. Do whatever you have to. This town is one in a million. I don't want to have to move." **Not when I still haven't taken up Jenny's advice. The other Jenny, I mean.**

"We're working on it, sweetie. Have fun at school. Say hello to Mr Giles for me," Joyce said pleasantly.

"Yeah, sure. Bye mom," Buffy said, hanging up her mobile. Sunnydale really was one in a million. Hearing all of Xander, Willow and Oz's tales of their brushes with fame, Buffy realised that THIS tiny town had had its fair share of Hollywood road-trippers.

Buffy had heard about Angel's break-up with his girlfriend. **What's her name again? Something that starts with 'D'?** Buffy had noticed the way he had been trying to avoid eye contact with her, but checked her out when he thought she didn't know. She should've been used to the attention, but it was...flattering, coming from him. There was no denying that she thought he was HOT. He still hadn't asked her for coffee or anything like that. She just hoped he wasn't being an ass and not realising that she liked him. A lot. She'd tried staying away because of his so-called girlfriend already, but what's-her-name was no longer an obstacle, leaving an opening for her to jump in and...**Make the first move?**

It was then and there that she decided that she would do exactly that—tonight—and ask him to the afterparty that was going to be held at the Bronze. Heck, if she didn't ask him soon, then she'd never get to. Not if she had to relocate. **I just *knew* Jen was up to something... If I ever see her again...well let's just say it won't be pretty.**

At that moment, she heard the faint beat of a song coming from the radio of the chauffeur's compartment. She pressed the button to lower the partition of black tinted glass between the two sections of the limo and asked him to turn the volume up in the back.

_//I been living down the road  
You've been up the street  
I think it's about time  
You come talking to me//_  


Buffy paused. **Okay. That's scary. Who's this song by and why does the lyrics sound so close to home? Scary, scary, scary as. Fuck!**

_//I see the way you look at me  
You see I don't mind  
I know that you've been thinking about  
The perfect opening line//_  


**Okay, shit me now. It's getting scarier and scarier. He lives on my street, across the road, he checks me out when he doesn't know that I know and I just *know* that there's something he wants to say. Hopefully, to ask me out.** Buffy smiled at the thought and concentrated on the rest of the lyrics. No such thing as coincidence and leprechauns, she always said whenever she had a similar experience, or whenever she had déjà vu.

_//It's a shame you  
Keep playing your game  
I don't wanna wait no more//_  


**Damn straight. And that's why I'm going to stop being stupid and doing...whatever it is that my both crazy *and* insane mind convinced me to do a minute ago that included the words "make the first move".**

_//You can be my hottie, hottie  
Not just anybody, body  
Everybody knows how the story goes  
We can have a party, party  
You, me, and nobody, body  
Everybody knows how the story goes//_  


**Angel sure is hot. Hotter than hot. And I've seen a LOT of hot guys in my lifetime. I'm like a cat; lots of lives, lots of guys...not many dates, however.** Buffy listened until the end of the song for the name of the artist, that way she could borrow it, buy it, download it—anything to get her hands on a copy. She was a bit weird when it came to music; she liked anything and everything. Heck, she even liked classical music.

*****

Buffy breathed deeply and concentrated. It was crunch time. She was going to go over there along with Cordelia and talk to Angel. The game had been won easily, 40 to nothing, and had passed Buffy like a blink of the eye.

"...his name is Gunn," Buffy overheard Cordelia saying to Angel.

"Who's name is Gunn?" Buffy asked, joining into the conversation.

"Your hunk of a bodyguard, duh," Cordelia said none-too-pleasantly before stalking off and dragging Harmony away from a small pack of chatty, air-headed girls.

"Oh, yeah, that one," Buffy muttered under her breath as she watched Harmony give Cordy a mirror to check her hair and makeup in. **And I thought that girl would've carried a mirror in her undies if need be.**

"Okay..." Angel raised his eyebrows from the rather bracing experience of having talked to Cordelia. His gaze tracked the brunette across to the other side of the car park where a tall, dark, African American guy—**Oh God. That guy isn't Buffy's boyfriend.**

"What's up? You like you just saw a ghost," Buffy joked. "What is it?" She turned to see what it was that had held Angel's attention. Gunn flirting with Cordy. **Like that's an unfamiliar thing for Gunn to do. Why is he staring?**

"That guy—is he really your bodyguard?"

"Last time I checked," Buffy replied, puzzled as to why Angel would stare at Gunn for so long. **Oh God, scary thought. He's not gay, he can't be gay, Larry's already gay...oh God.** "Angel, your scaring me."

Angel turned his line of vision back to the familiar face of Buffy, finally realising what an idiot he'd been all this time. "I'm such a fucking idiot," he said, mouth still agape after having said it.

"You're not, uh, you're not gay are you?"

Angel snapped out of it at *that* comment. "What?! No way. All this time I thought he was your boyfriend, that's all."

"Oh." Buffy paused, "Oh..."

"Yeah, 'oh'," he nodded. "I was so attracted to you and I had to keep myself from telling you or letting anything on to anyone because I thought you were involved with him," Angell babbled. "I'm smart, aren't I?" He laughed at the sarcasm. "I can just see you saying 'why' right about now."

"Why?"

"I kept seeing you two together; him helping with your books, you kissing him on the cheek, the both of spending so much time together, and I saw you slow dancing once when I was coming over to your house to, well, actually I can't remember. Not to mention, he's a pretty good looking guy."

"Gunn? He's like my brother. So there's nothing to worry about in that department. If I'd known you thought he was my honey...well then we'd be at the Bronze already," Buffy hinted.

"That'd be nice," Angel smiled at the thought. He took one of her hands in his and said, "Be my date?" With a hopeful smile, of course.

"Of course," Buffy said, clasping the hand that held her own. "And now that I can slow dance, we can go to the Bronze...and, well, slow dance." At that moment, Buffy's mind chose to remember the lyrics to the bridge of the song. She'd downloaded it that afternoon and had been listening to it the whole time on repeat. It was strange how it just fitted so well.

_//Finally you come talking to me  
I want you in my life  
You will see that  
Once upon a time  
Not long ago there was a guy  
Who was a show  
And now you realise  
Don't wanna wait anymore//_  


**Okay, except for the 'other guy' stuff. The last time I had a proper boyfriend was absolutely *ages* ago. How sad is that? Oh well, now I have Angel as my date to the afterparty, I'm happy. Blissfully, actually.**

"You smell like sweat," Buffy said, wrinkling her nose. "In a very manly way."

"Thanks for telling me that. Now I have something else to puzzle over about women."

"Funny."

"I'm a funny guy."

**Woah, déjà vu.**

_AN: The song is "Hottie" by Ashley Ballard._


	12. No Rest For the Wickedly Funloving

**Part 12**

Upon entering the Bronze, the pair were assaulted with the smell of sweat and over-sweetened drinks mixed with the musk of lust and overexerted teens. Buffy clutched to Angel's arm, afraid of losing Angel in the crowd.

She clung to his well-muscled arm as they weaved through the crowd towards Willow, who looked to be involved in a heated conversation with Oz, or rather, a heated make-out session. Xander was absent, but Buffy assumed that he was once again on the dance floor, shaking his bonbon and embarrassing a number of other patrons while he was at it.

"Don't take any notice of us," Buffy said as she slid down to sit on the adjacent raspberry-pink love seat. She pulled Angel down to sit next to her, leaning her head on his shoulder the moment he was settled.

Willow and Oz broke out of the kiss abruptly and looked flushed, nervously straightening their clothes out. "Hey, you two," Willow greeted them. "Where've you been? We've been here for ages now."

"Tell me, did you really take notice? Besides, we're only a couple of minutes late, and that's only because me and Angel had a revelation," Buffy said, giving her date a loving squeeze in the arm, "sort of."

"So I take it you're an item now," Oz said, putting two and two together.

Buffy looked at Angel for an answer, as if to make sure she hadn't taken it wrongly. He smiled, snaking his hand around her waist and pulling her closer towards him. "Yep," Angel replied simply.

"And you tell me I'm a man of few words," Oz whispered to Willow, who, upon hearing what her boyfriend had said, elicited a short giggle.

She held a hand up to Oz's ear and whispered, "They make such a cute couple."

"Hey! What are you guys whispering about us?" Buffy asked defensively, but was obviously just playing around with some otherwise slightly boring chit-chat.

"Wouldn't you like to know," Willow replied teasingly, nuzzling her face against Oz's shoulder. "I was just telling Oz what a cute couple you make."

Buffy beamed. "Well I don't know if you could really call BO boy over here 'cute'," she joked, holding him tighter despite what she'd just said.

"I take offence to that."

"Fine, then you can be my hottie boy," Buffy said, referring back to the song she had heard on the radio earlier. She gave him a dazzling smile and kissed him on the cheek playfully.

Angel laughed softly, "Better than BO boy, I suppose."

Buffy shook her head and smiled, pressing her chin into his shoulder, digging softly into his collarbone. She quickly flashed him a meek smile, as if to say "just try it".

"You've been a couple for what? Less than half an hour? And you're already doing teasing and all that fluff that comes along with the...coupley-ness. That's so...I can't even think of a word for it," Willow beamed, looking to her currently purple-headed boyfriend for suggestions.

"Cute?" Oz suggested uncertainly.

"Yeah, that's the word. Cute," Willow turned back to face the supposedly 'cute' couple who just looked at each other with eyebrows raised. "Okay...I said it before, but...you just *are*. A cute couple, I mean."

"Note to self: buy a thesaurus for Willow," Buffy said, earning her a wide grin and some mild laughter from Angel, Oz and Willow.

"Really? I don't have a thesaurus at home. My mom has one at her office. It helps you get lots of fancy words to make you seem all smart and stuff," Willow gushed, very close to bouncing in her seat if Oz hadn't stopped her with a gentle hand on her knee.

"But you're already smart and stuff," Oz replied in a quiet voice. Willow responded with a kiss, leading to more kisses and to Buffy and Angel turning their full attention back to each other.

"Dance?" Angel offered.

"Of course," Buffy accepted, dragging him onto the dance floor for the slow, sappy love song that they had started to play in the stead of a live band (who were currently taking a break). She hoped that her slow dancing skills were still up to scratch from when Gunn had last coached her on it during the previous weekend. It seemed that her feet just couldn't stand the aching slowness of it all. That was Buffy—always the party girl.

"Suppose I met the girl of my dreams—well, of many people's dreams—and I were to ask her out for a date on Friday night. Do you think she'd say yes?" Angel asked as he swayed to the music.

Buffy smiled into the comfort of his not overly-muscled chest, "I always knew you were a charmer."

"So will you go out with me Friday night?"

"Maybe I have plans..." Buffy teased.

Angel's heart sank at the thought, "Oh...do you really?"

Buffy thought for a moment, scanning her memory for anything that could possibly coincide, "Crap. I can't. I have to go visit my parents in LA. I've been away from them for nearly two months now. And I'm sure Giles has something planned for me as well since my mom probably talked to him about the leak... Shit. Classic case of 'I would, if I could, but I can't'."

Angel blinked, absorbing the information and trying to figure out what she'd said after the first mention of the word 'can't'. "Oh... That's okay then. Blood's thicker than water...whatever that means."

"You can come if you want. It'll be fun, I promise," Buffy said in a sing-song voice.

Angel couldn't resist the pout that came after his extended silence, "Sure."

"Great!" Buffy beamed, hugging him tighter to her. "So tell me—do you like Passions?"

*****

"Here's your itinerary, your house keys, car keys, backstage passes, and everything you'll need. Also," Giles reached down behind his desk, pulling out a small, fluffy ball from around his ankles, "here's your dog." Buffy took everything, struggling to hold everything all at the same time, especially Thor.

"You know, it's a good thing I walked him already," Buffy said, ignoring Giles and focusing all her attention on the mop-like fluffy ball of dog that currently resided under her right arm. "Oh, and I forgot to tell you..."

"What?" Giles snapped back to attention from his drawer-rummaging. "Is anything wrong?"

"Oh, no, nothing drastic. I'm just bringing a few friends along. Actually, they're friends of a friend, including my...friend," Buffy said, hesitant to tell Giles that she had developed a relationship with Angel. At the beginning of the whole thing, Giles had said a very strong 'no' to relationships other than friendship, claming that it wouldn't be a good idea. **"I think it would be best for either party for you NOT to be linked romantically with anyone while in Sunnydale. It'll be bad for publicity..." Yadda, yadda, yadda...Giles should learn that I don't really ever listen to him.**

"Oh...well, nothing can be done about that now, is there?" Giles said hurriedly, once again rummaging through his drawer for something.

"Giles? What are you looking for?" Buffy asked, rising on the balls of her feet to try to see what Giles was up to. He ignored her question and continued to look, opening the next drawer down to search for whatever it was that he was searching for.

"Aha!" Giles finally said triumphantly. "I found it."

"And what would this 'it' be? A rabbit in a top hat?" Buffy asked impatiently.

"It's a bottle of sunscreen and Miss Walkens' new Bel Air residence and phone number." Giles handed her a small, plastic tube and a piece of paper with an address in a neat, black script. **Probably written in his "favourite fountain pen" as well...Giles needs a life.**

"Sunscreen?"

"It's going to be sunny in Los Angeles this weekend, and seeing that you'll be spending a fair bit of time outside, I don't think it would hurt to put a bit on. Prevention is better than cure...or so they say," Giles sat back into his large desk chair and went through a large stack of sponsorship legality papers. "Also, it's under sponsorship. Apparently, all you have to do is use it."

"Right...I'm sponsored by a sunscreen company? It's probably all stinky and oily and all the other grossities of sunscreen," Buffy exclaimed in exasperation. "Not that, you know, sunscreen is a bad thing," she added to appease Giles' predictable protest. "Thanks for the address, by the way."

"The sunscreen actually has a rather nice smell to it."

"Really?" Buffy unscrewed the lid carefully, not wanted to drop everything, especially Thor. Holding it to her nose, she found it had a refreshing, summery scent. "Ooh, nice..."

*****

"Hurry up, Gunn. We're all waiting for you," Buffy shouted towards the front door, where Gunn had accidentally bashed his foot in the doorframe trying to get his luggage through. Buffy had Thor on his leash and had already put him in the car. The chauffeur was waiting and everyone was already inside except for the macho 'I don't pack as much as you' guy.

"I'm coming, I'm coming. Hold onto your panties, will ya?" Gunn lugged the bag through the door and shoved it into the trunk and slammed it closed.

"Finally," Buffy teased before getting into the limo, picking up a happily yapping Thor from Spike's lap.

"Your dog is *scary*. Get that thing away from me. I always have to put up with Peaches' Bertha Blue as it is. Yapping and attacking me..." Spike complained. He'd decided to tag along as soon as the words 'Passions set' were mentioned. He'd been a fan of the show for years and had only missed an episode when there was a blackout during the day and had put his VCR out of service and the timer out of whack. But it was all okay because his father's secretary had taped the episode by accident and had kindly given the tape to the slightly crazed 17-year-old.

"He's not a *thing*," Buffy replied, lovingly petting the dog under its chin to a much appreciated response.

"Well it's not a person either."

"True, but he's not a 'thing'," Buffy shot back.

"Alright, he's not a 'thing' then. When do we get there?"

"Are you always this annoying?" Buffy asked, slightly playfully.

A chorus of 'yes' came from Angel, Faith and Cordelia.

"Hey! No one asked *you*," Spike shot at Cordelia, who had tagged along as Gunn's guest. "You don't know me well, I don't know you well, and I don't think that being quick to judge is a good idea." He paused, "Did that just come out of my mouth or did I imagine it?"

Angel just laughed at him, "Does it matter?"

Spike just shrugged and settled back into his seat. He had to admit that it was rather comfortable, discounting the fact that the limo was packed; six people, not including the driver. "Well, let's get going," he shouted rudely to the chauffeur. "I got autographs to collect and fun to be had," he informed the rest of them with a funny grin that made everyone except Cordelia crack up. She just sent a death glare in his direction which made him stop grinning and send her a 'bugger off' look.

And so, the troupe of six made their way on the two-hour drive to Los Angeles with Spike to keep them company and Thor yapping out the window for the entire trip. There wasn't a single person who wasn't happy to get to Buffy's place and get relief from cramped legs, dehydration and, last but not least, some dinner.

"I wish Will, Xand and Oz could've come," Buffy said to Angel as soon as they got out of the car at her parents' LA home. "Willow wasn't allowed, Xander's grounded and Oz said he wouldn't come unless Will went. It would've been the perfect time for her mother's ignorance."

"She'll survive without coming on the trip, Buffy. Don't do the guilt trip thing. Not good for you," Angel reassured her. "And trust me, I know."

"Okay," Buffy nodded, biting her lip. "Who's hungry?"

  


**AN: Thanks everyone who's reviewed!! I REALLY like to hear what you think of it. And just to give you something to look forward to until the next part, here are some...uh, hinty words: Towel. Dripping. Wet. Angel. Buffy. Crash. Yummy.**

Okay, that's enough. I couldn't think of a better way to say thank you to EVERYONE who reviewed (especially the ones who didn't even fill in their email addy in the anonymous review mode), so THANK YOU!!! (And yes, I'm perfectly sane. I just couldn't help myself with this little 'trip'. Think of all the possibilities...get your mind out of the gutter!! Not THOSE possibilities. I'm only 15...)


	13. Thirteen Isn't Necessarily UnLucky

**Part 13**

After enjoying a delicious meal cooked by none other than Joyce and Dawn Summers, they watched a few movies that Buffy had unearthed from the back of the cupboard and finally went to bed at a little past midnight. Tomorrow would entail an early start (well, at least that was what was written in Giles' itinerary). Not exactly a pleasant notion for night owls like Spike and Faith.

However, there was never a doubt in anyone's mind that Spike would do almost anything to go to the Passions set, where Buffy had been able to get backstage passes due to Giles' connections with the producers. They'd also been pestering her to agree to guest star on the show—which she'd adamantly refused many times. They just didn't stop with the pester.

Buffy rubbed the sleep from her eyes and slapped the button on the top of the alarm to shut it up. **Fuck. If only every morning were so pleasant...not.**

Buffy squinted at the digital numbers displayed in blue from her limited edition Powerpuff Girls clock. She could imagine fans laughing over it. What could she say? She *was* a normal girl, after all.

Slipping on a pair of fluffy blue slippers, she started to head toward the door. Gazing around at her room, she frowned. **How'd it get so messy?** She picked up an armful of clothes and shoved them into her wardrobe, not really wanted to touch on the whole messiness issue. It was Saturday for goodness sakes. No room cleaning for Buffy.

Grabbing her robe from the hanger on the back of her door, she slipped it on and headed out the door. She dawdled to the end of the hallway, seeing as it seemed to already be occupied already anyway. **Shit! I'm busting, hurry up whoever it is! I need to pee!**

Not able to stay still, Buffy paced back and forth in front of the door. **Whoever it is, I'm gonna kill them. I know I could go to the bathroom downstairs or the one on the end of the hallway, but whoever it is—who shall be dead as soon as they get out—could very possibly be done before I reach another bathroom. Hurry up! I'm gonna—**

Buffy's thoughts were interrupted when she crashed into the person who'd occupied the bathroom while pacing and in deep and angered thought at the same time. The one whom she had cursing just moments before. It was obviously a man. Large, muscular chest, perfectly tanned, dripping wet from having had a shower, wearing only a towel...Buffy bit her lip at the sight. She meekly lifted her head to make sure it was who she thought it was. She found him smiling at her in amusement. **Oh God, I think I'm gonna pee my pants. He looks so yummy! And sexy, did I mention sexy? I better not have a trail of saliva running down the corner of my mouth. Fuck! He's so hot... Kill me now, but I may be in heaven already. A yummy heaven!**

"Enjoying the view?" Angel finally asked.

"Uh-huh..." Buffy said without even knowing what it was that he'd asked. She blinked, snapping her (slightly) out of her reverie. "I mean, what are you talking about?"

Angel just laughed, enjoying the opportunity to get an eyeful. No make up, messed up hair, in her Wonder Woman pyjama pants, a singlet top and a loosely tied satin robe. "Wonder Woman?"

"Hey! Don't mock Wonder Woman. I used to watch it all the time," Buffy defended herself. **You. Are. Busting. To. Pee. Go already! The only problem is moving...he's too hot for me to want to move.**

"I'm feeling a little underdressed, so I should, uh," Angel trailed off, not able to resist her lips. They looked so soft, so kissable. He brought a hand to tuck a loose section of golden hair behind her ear. **Good enough to nibble...although having a hard-on while dressed only in a towel is VERY not good, I can't resist...kissing her.**

His hand trailed down her neck and under her chin. He ran his thumb along her lip. It was perfectly moist, perfectly kissable. He tipped her chin up and lowered his mouth to hers. The kiss was tentative at first, but it grew passionate, with Angel pressing her against him in their first real kiss. As they finally broke apart, Buffy's mouth flew agape.

"Wow, that was...uh..." she was literally speechless. She couldn't even say how amazing the kiss was. She'd been kissed before, but it never felt quite like this before. It was...incredible.

"Intense?" Angel suggested.

Buffy nodded, "It was incredible..."

"But...?" Angel asked, sensing that she had more to say than 'it was incredible' even though she was speechless.

"But I'm busting to go to the toilet," Buffy finally said, pushing past him to get into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

"Okay. That was new," Angel said to himself. Looking down, he was relieved to see that the towel was still in place. **Phew. How embarrassing would it have been if it came off? Ugh, I don't even want to think about THAT...**

*****

It wasn't until later on that Buffy had allowed herself to remember what had happened and found how stupid it must have seemed. Of course, hormones had taken over control at the time—not to mention, her bladder—and, thus, hadn't really been aware of her actions. Especially not after that kiss; she could go on for ages about how incredible it was, but then she'd only end up repeating herself.

**Enough about the new, embarrassing me though. Which dress should I wear? The pink, the purple, the blue or the yellow?** Buffy had four outfits spread out on her bed, each consisting of a different coloured dress (all different in design, of course), each with matching accessories—shoes, jewellery, bags and jackets and all that. Not being able to decide, she put one hand over her eyes and pointed her index finger towards her bed. She waved her arm in a figure-of-eight until she stopped the movement abrupt. Removing her hand from over her eyes, she found herself pointing at the purple dress. **Ooh, nice.**

Buffy glanced over at the clock. Just enough time to have breakfast and then get changed. Tossing the other three outfits onto one of her chairs and putting her jewellery back into her jewellery box, she headed downstairs toward the welcoming smell of bacon, eggs and toast. **Yum... Hmm, I wonder if mom got any ice cream for me... She knows how much I like that cookie dough fudge mint chip.**

Following her nose, she found Dawn, Gunn, Faith and Spike already eating and going about their business. Her mother was in the kitchen, frying the last of the pancake batter—assisted, surprisingly, by Angel. There was already a large stack of toast and pancakes on the dining table (though quickly being polished off by Spike and Gunn) as well as a plate of fried eggs and strips of bacon.

"Wow, what a way to wake up the troops. Where's Cordelia?" Buffy asked, taking a plate from the stack on the kitchen bench and taking a seat at the table. She grabbed a slice of toast, a fried egg, a few rashers of bacon and the remaining half-pancake that had survived Spike and Gunn's attack.

"Hogging the bathroom. Where else?" Spike answered cheerfully.

"Here's some more, kids," Joyce announced as she rested the two plates of freshly cooked food on the table. "Gosh, I haven't even eaten yet. Thanks to Angel, at least I'll get to eat some before I have to go to brunch with Lilah. Oh, and drop your sister off at her dance class." Joyce shot her daughter a Look.

"Sorry mom. I just figured you wouldn't have benefited from me and my klutzy ways," Buffy replied truthfully. "Besides, I saw you already had plenty of help," she smiled at her boyfriend, who, unfortunately, was now dressed. **Oh well, I still have a pretty good memory of what he looks like half-Monty and dripping wet. Hey! How come he has to be the only one who's properly dressed?** Buffy frowned and continued to enjoy her breakfast.

"Mo-om! Buffy ate the last of the bacon!" Dawn complained as soon as she noticed the last few pieces missing. "And it was good bacon, too...it wasn't burnt!"

"Ooh, breakfast," Cordelia said, barging in the room so suddenly that everyone almost dropped their cutlery.

"You should really try the orange juice," Faith commented, knowing perfectly well that it was sourer than a lemon. The rest of them laughed inwardly, knowing what Faith meant. "Really, it's got no artificial colours, flavours or preservatives." She took a glass and poured Cordelia a small glassful. "Here."

"Uh...okay," Cordelia said, taking the glass. She took a wary sip and made a face. "I think that maybe I've still got the taste of toothpaste in my mouth or something, but that does NOT taste sweet. Ugh, gross. Is there any coffee?"

"Sorry, ran out because Gunn had two cups and used the last of the good beans," Joyce replied, spreading out her newspaper innocently. She knew what Buffy's friends were up to—she decided that she didn't really like the girl either. In some ways, she was worse than Lilah. After the way she'd behaved at dinner the previous night and had acted during her stay with the Summers'.

"We're leaving in half an hour. You'll either have to eat normally and dress really fast, or eat really fast and dress normally," Buffy informed Cordelia. The rest of them were just about finished eating and she hadn't even sat down yet.

"Oh," Cordelia looked around as the rest of them rinsed their dishes in the sink, "well then Angel can keep me company. You know, seeing as he's already dressed."

Angel was just about to reply when Buffy grabbed his arm, "Can't. He's coming with me."

"Yeah, uh, Buffy promised to show me something," Angel covered lamely.

"Don't take too long," Joyce called out to her daughter and her friends.

"What was *that* all about?" Cordelia asked as soon as they were out of sight.

"Buffy hasn't had a boyfriend for about two years. You'll have to excuse her," Joyce replied, not taking her attention off her newspaper. "Would you like some *instant* coffee?"

*****

"So, why did you make me come with you?" Angel asked as soon as he heard the door click closed.

"What? Did you want to stay there and have a conversation with Cordelia?" Buffy asked in a surprised tone.

"Well, it would've been interesting—" Angel cut his sentence short. "Well, you sure aren't a neat freak." He blinked to see if it was his eyes that were playing with him. But sure enough, there were clothes and assorted things strewn around the room, books and CDs on the floor, a stack of Cosmopolitans in the corner with a small pile of soft toys on and around it and what looked like the strap of a bra sticking out from under a pile of clothes at the end of the bed; it was the messiest room he'd ever seen. Far worse than his and Spike's combined. As well as clothes, there were several sheets of lined binder paper on the floor with words scribbled in pencil on them.

"Yeah, Giles tells me off about it, too," she dashed around the room, trying furiously to neaten it up a bit. She tucked the bra strap underneath the pile of clothes and hung a few things up on hangers. Spotting a few sheets of paper, she frantically picked them up and shoved them into her desk drawer. She'd scribbled ideas on the paper for her next album—topics for songs, styles of music and a few lines of song lyrics. Okay, a few pages.

"Well I don't blame him if your room in Sunnydale is anything like this. And seeing that you don't even live here..."

"Don't tell him you said that. He'll chuck a happy," she replied, pulling the drapes shut over her windows. "I'm just always too busy." Buffy ran across to the other side of her room, but was stopped by Angel. "What?"

"Buffy, what are you doing?" Angel asked in confusion.

"Closing the blinds so no one will see us through the windows? Cos then they take pictures and put them in magazines and come up with nifty captions next to them saying something like 'Who's Buffy's new boytoy?'."

"Oh, well, I'll go if—"

"No, stay. You have nothing to do anyway...besides, I'm just getting changed," she picked up the dress from her bed and took it off its hanger.

"What—"

She shrugged off her robe and tossed it on her bed beside her perfectly planned outfit. Angel stared wide-eyed at her half-bare back. Well, at least until she turned around and he found himself staring at her breasts—covered, of course, by a flimsy pink singlet top. "Oh, I'm not changing right here. That's what the really big walk-in wardrobe is for."

Buffy emerged a minute later, dressed, but otherwise in a bit of a mess. "What do you think?"

Angel blinked; he still couldn't believe what he was seeing. Never in his wildest dreams would he have even considered that Buffy Summers would ask him about his opinion on what she was wearing. He snapped out of it with a slight shake of the head, "You know—"

"Bad? I'll go change."

"No, no, no. You look great. It's just that half the time I wonder if I'm asleep or awake because it—this—feels like a dream to me," Angel explained. "Like you're not really here and it's all just my imagination playing with my mind."

"Really?" Buffy asked, approaching him slowly. "Does this feel real?" She leaned in and captured his lips with hers, pulling him towards her in a fiery kiss. It was sweet and passionate at the same time, hot like fire, and achingly delectable. Neither wanted for it to end, but the need for air became an issue and were forced to break apart.

"Hell yeah," Angel replied breathlessly.

"Good. Now I just need to do my hair and put a little something on my face, so if you think you'll be bored, wait downstairs with...well, Spike. He's probably in hypermode."

"Somehow, I think it'd be better if I stayed here..."

*****

Later that day, after being bombarded by the people at the set of Passions (and the set of Passions being bombarded by Spike), Buffy and Co. decided to take a trip to Santa Monica beach. After all, it was a sunny day, they had wheels and they all had their beach gear—who *wouldn't* go to the beach. The itinerary Giles had prepared had said "1:00 – Lunch, 2:00-5:00 – Free time" anyway, what better way to spend four hours at the beach with a picnic lunch? 

"Mmm...you smell good," Angel commented as he kissed her neck. "What is that?"

"Sunscreen," Buffy replied, putting on a pair of dark Jackie-O-like sunglasses and a floppy white hat that matched her bikini.

"Really? Sunscreen can smell nice?" Angel asked, wrinkling his nose up in confusion. Buffy just responded by giving him a kiss.

"You realise, we haven't even gone on a proper date yet and we've kissed already—several times."

"Yeah, but I thought that going to the Bronze after the game on Wednesday was pretty much considered as our first date. Unless..." Angel trailed off, not really knowing how to finish what he was saying.

"Well when you put it that way..." Buffy grinned. Angel leaned back and relaxed into the pillow-y softness of Faith and Spike's discarded towels. Buffy settled beside him and threw an arm over his chest, hugging him close and entwining one of her legs with his.

"You know, I'm gonna get a funny tan like this," Angel pointed out.

"So?" Buffy asked innocently. Angel chuckled and snaked an arm around her body to pull her closer. "Angel? This is the first time I ever really felt this way."

"What way?"

"Just like I've always wanted to. Like a normal girl, relaxing in the arms of her normal boyfriend. It's perfect." Angel didn't reply. He just kissed her on the top of her head and closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of her in his arms.

**Déjà vu...**

  
  


**This yummy, fluffy part is dedicated to all you readers. Not only those who review, mind you. I don't really mind if you don't review, but it is SO much better if you do. You know why? Cos I read them and what you tell me can reflect in what I write. You said to get them together? I got them together. Tell me!! (Cos I haven't got any clue what I should do...I can't write fluff for the rest of my life, that's for sure.) Also note that this part is considerably longer!!**


	14. Moon Men Aren't An Uncommon Sight

**Part 14**

"What exactly are we doing today?" Faith asked suddenly. They were on their way the next morning to places unknown to do God-knows-what.

"Are we going shopping?" Cordelia piped up.

"Yeah, I'll drop you guys off and then I have to record this thing for MTV. It won't take long. I've only got enough passes for Gunn and, well, one extra guest. That equals two. Present company equals six and that doesn't work out." Buffy said as she sifted through her bag for her elusive MTV passes.

"What about you?" Angel asked.

Buffy shot him a Look. "I don't really need one."

"Oh."

"Damn, that really bites, you know. You're gonna ask Angel to be your 'guest' and I'm gonna be stuck with tweedle-dee and tweedle-dum," Spike said angrily.

"Hey!" Faith and Cordelia exclaimed in unison, the former giving him a punch in the arm and the latter giving him a kick in the shins.

"Can I pass on MTV?" Gunn asked Buffy. "I know I'm supposed to be your bodyguard and all, but Angel's a big strong football playing guy. You'll manage. I'm afraid I have to save Spike from an untimely death." Cordelia responded by giving him a dirty look followed by a painful nudge from her elbow.

"Sure, if you want," Buffy answered as she kept rummaging through her bag. "Aha!" She pulled out Angel's pass and a small container of Vaseline.

"Why are you going to the MTV studio anyway?" Angel asked, accepting his pass and watching her curiously as she procured a small mirror from one of the many knick-knacky compartments and drawers built into the limo.

"I have to tape my acceptance thing for the VMA's cos I couldn't go to New York. I have a test on Monday," Buffy said calmly as she applied the Vaseline on her lips.

Spike choked. He coughed several times before he could talk properly. "VMA's? What did you win?"

"I can't tell you. I'm sworn to secrecy."

*****

Upon opening the door to the studio, Angel didn't know what to expect. He was shocked to find that the small studio was...so small. It looked cosy and comfortable in the reception area with a few orange sofas spread around the edges of the room and an odd looking table with a receptionist sitting behind it. Said receptionist looked up and said, "Go right in. They're expecting you."

Buffy thanked her and lead Angel into the dimly lit halls. The floors were wooden and made disturbingly loud sounds when they walked. They passed a few doors—all of different types and degrees of eccentricity—as they moved through the production office hallway. A few of the noticeboards on the walls displayed photos of celebrities who had been in lately (all candid and crazy snaps of the celebs when they were a little less down to business). The hall wasn't all that long; Angel felt as if it seemed to go on forever.

Finally, they turned right and passed by a few doors with pictures with elaborate vintage-style frames and a department name written underneath each picture. A door marked 'Make Up 4' was busy with the make up artists working away at what they did best. They passed by a mirror with what looked like old make up and hair products stuck all over it to reveal a picture formed by the uncovered parts of the mirror that appeared to be the MTV logo.

They passed by the infamous 'Paparazzi in a Can' photo booth which made Angel want to blink a few more times to make sure he wasn't dreaming. But sure enough, there it was. Standing in all its purple glory. He decided later that the people at MTV must be either: a) creative, b) artsy, c) eccentric or d) strange. He hoped to God that it was a).

Finally, the hallway opened up to a plain, white door with a sign on it that said 'Green Room'. A huge security guy stood on one side of the door and had a walkie-talkie-like contraption gripped in his large fist. He looked to Angel to be the sort who would've been a jailbird for part of his life, or a boxer. Or maybe a WWE wrestler.

Angel felt a bit awkward when the security guy smiled at them and said, "Hello, Miss Summers...and company. They're waiting for you inside." He pushed the door partway opened for them to step through.

"Thanks," she looked at his nametag, "Max." She stopped halfway through the door, causing Angel to bump into her—not that he minded—and looked back at Max. "Have I seen you before? Oh wait, don't answer that. I *know* I've seen you before."

"I was one of the security guys who were part of the security crew on your last tour. It was a pleasure working with you, might I add," Max said, almost curtly. Angel was left puzzled. This big guy who looked suspiciously like a biker-type of guy was talking *curtly*. What was even stranger was that he had a vaguely English accent. He would have dropped to the floor, rolling with laughter if his manners were non-existent and if the guy didn't look so...well, no need to say 'threatening' since Angel *certainly* wasn't threatened, but...

"Oh my God, how could I have forgotten? I like you. You didn't eat all the jelly donuts like the rest of them," Buffy chuckled.

Max laughed with her and said, "I liked the chocolate icing ones better than the jellies."

"Oh, gosh, I think we're running late," she said, looking at her watch hurriedly. "I hope I'll see you again, Max."

They bid their farewells and as soon as he stepped through, Angel was surprised by the smallness of the room. There were people all over the place, preparing the lighting and the assorted equipment. It was most intriguing for Angel to witness as he always watched MTV whenever possible—after school, while studying, when he was bored—that is to say, all the time.

"I'm going to get my make up done. Are you alright to stay here?" Buffy asked, looking past him to see one of the ladies from the make up department waiting patiently at the door.

"Sure. I'll just...sit," Angel replied, sinking into one of the nearby chairs. **Okay, so the Green Room isn't green. Is it too late to change my mind and pick d)?**

Sure enough, the Green Room was far from green. It was white, or maybe some other colour. The lights were pink and yellow, leaving the colour of anything in there to the imagination. A TV ran on the other side of the room showing random music videos. Angel guessed that the TV was permanently tuned only to MTV. In the corner next to it was a computer and next to that, against the wall was a velvety red couch. In front of the couch was a small round table with a blackboard surface with all sorts of things written in chalk.

Angel froze and wondered if he could be any more starstruck than he currently was.

*****

Buffy gripped onto her silver moon man as they ran a few practice shots. **Thank God I'm not doing it live...** She looked up and grinned over at her boyfriend who was standing quietly in the corner nibbling on one of the tiny salad sandwiches that the catering company had provided for brunch.

He smiled back, holding up Spike's autograph book in his other hand. He'd been forced to get as many autographs as he could—anything and anyone was fine with Spike. If he could only get the paw print of the camera man's sister's dog, then so be it. However, if he could get someone famous...then Angel would have to endure the horror of seeing and experiencing his stepbrother putting on some of his girlfriend's dark lipstick and giving him a BIG kiss on the cheek.

Buffy relaxed into the cushions on the velvety red sofa and wished she could have just done the whole thing in the safety of her own home. At least then she wouldn't have to have pink, red and yellow lights all over the place to make her resemble a tomato with pink hair and a yellow nose.

After they were done filming Buffy's acceptance speeches, she was lead (reluctantly) into the photo booth. When she finally agreed, she said, "Fine, but you, Angel, have to take at least one shot with me."

And so that's how Angel found himself sitting in the 'Paparazzi in a Can' booth with Buffy to take two shots—one normal one where Buffy sat herself in Angel's lap and one crazy one where Angel pretended that he was having sex with her against the side of the booth. A copy of the strip made its way to become tacked onto one of the noticeboards where all the other were kept and the second copy was for them to keep.

*****

Later that night, they sat down to watch the VMA's in the comfort of Buffy's parents' home with the rest of the group, all of Buffy's family and her three new moon men in her awards cabinet. The rest of her awards were kept there and hadn't made the move to Sunnydale and probably never would because her mother and sister *insisted* that they should stay "in case they got broken or damaged during the trip". They each had a bowl of ice cream in their hands—excluding Cordelia as she'd said that it was bad for her skin—and were enjoying the company of each other. The only one who wasn't there was Gunn, who had gone to visit his family.

During the course of the afternoon, they had hung out, shopped and just had fun. They'd laughed over the photos and enjoyed the cuisine of Los Angeles' most exclusive restaurants. Spike had met Billy Idol by coincidence and had had his picture taken with him. However, Buffy had an inkling that Billy thought that Spike was either a look-alike/impostor or a wannabe when, in fact, Spike had had an accident with bleach which hadn't yet gone away. It was almost like a superhero storyline, like when Spiderman got bitten by a genetically modified spider, except that it'd make Spike something like...Bleachboy, which would've been laughable if it weren't so sad.

Angel had also discovered that he really HAD gotten a funny tan from Buffy lying on him in full sunshine the day before. Buffy had laughed at him and his predicament until he'd glared at her. She'd told him not to glare because it made him look rather sexy and made her want to kiss him in public, which she was forbidden to do because Lilah, her publicist, had said it would spark rumours. (She kissed him later when they got back home.) In all truth, though, Buffy didn't really give a rat's ass about what Lilah ever had to say.

They were scheduled to leave for Sunnydale in an hour; as soon as Gunn got back. It would give them enough time to watch some of the awards and to finish their desserts. Cookie dough fudge mint chip just didn't taste the same when rushed.

There was a rustle in the bushes, capturing their attention. Just as suddenly, a light appeared from within the bushes outside the window and a green glass bottle with a rag at the end which was alight with a flame was thrown at the window—a Molotov cocktail.

Fortunately, it wasn't thrown hard enough to smash through the window, but the explosion that resulted blew apart the window and the bushes in front of it as well as part of the room. Angel instinctively pulled Buffy to him to protect her from the flames. Hank and Joyce ran into the laundry to fetch some buckets to fill with water and Faith had sprung to her feet and immediately called 911.

Angel spotted a figure darting through the trees that stood on either side of the driveway. He released Buffy and flew out the door. He ran faster than he had ever run before—even when he was playing football—and, by some miracle, he was able to pull the culprit to the ground. They struggled, but Angel was able to get the upper hand. **I guess coach was right. I *did* need to work out. And hey, it came in handy.**

He pressed the guy's head to the ground, held his hands behind his back and used his leg to stop him from kicking. Angel saw Buffy jogging toward them with a hand over her mouth in shock.

"Are you alright?" Angel asked Buffy in concern.

"Yeah, the fire didn't spread. Turns out my mother is prepared for anything. The bushes under the window were rubber plants—lots less flammable than posies. Rubber plants as in the plants that produce rubber naturally...you know," Buffy smiled, kneeling down next to them. She took one look at the culprit's crop of blonde-brown hair and said, "Riley?"

Angel looked up at his girlfriend in surprise. **She knows the guy?**

"You idiot! What were you thinking?" Buffy scolded Riley. She pried Angel off of Riley's body and made him stand up—then she punched him, hard, in the nose. "I told you to leave me *alone*! And now what? You show up trying to blow up my house? And don't go thinking I won't press charges."

"No, but—" Riley started to say in his own defense.

"I don't want to hear it."

"Okay then, that hurt," Riley said, rubbing his nose.

Buffy just rolled her eyes and looked over at her completely baffled boyfriend. She beamed at him and then turned back to Riley to give him his just desserts—a nice, big, knee to the groin. He crumpled to the ground, clutching to a nearby tree to steady himself.

"Buffy, Warrior Popstar," Angel said with a smirk at the traumatised boy crumpled against a tree, forcing down the pain by biting his lip.

"Ha-ha, very funny," Buffy replied with a slightly amused smile.

"Okay, now that we've laughed about it—what do we do?"

"Faith called 911. The police are probably coming..." Buffy said calmly.

"Won't they want to hold us for questioning? We can't stay. We have school tomorrow."

Buffy just smiled at his concern, "Don't worry. We have a restraining order on *this* little sucker. I don't think it'll be a problem since he's such an honest kind of guy. Aren'tcha, Ri?"

"Okay, then I think we should get...this...Riley inside," Angel said, unsure of the name of the collapsed form which he was looking down at.

"I agree," Buffy nodded. Spike and Faith had come from behind her and had heard part of the conversation. Buffy looked over at them said, "Don't worry. He's actually quite co-operative. He can't run fast enough if his life depended on it, anyway."

"Thanks for telling everyone that."

"You're welcome."

"Maybe we should hold your hands behind your back, just in case," Angel suggested.

"Oh joy...I'm a criminal again."

"You brought it on yourself."

Riley snorted, "You *always* say that..."

"Tell me. How does a fairly good guy like you suddenly become a repeat offender? I knew your mother. She was a nice woman; your father as well. What happened to you?" Buffy asked, as the five of them headed back toward the house with Angel holding Riley's hands behind his back.

"You dumped me for Tyler and then he went and cheated on you with your best friend. A little birdie told me you forgave them both. What about me, Buffy? What about ME?" Riley said bitterly, straining against Angel's hold on him.

Before Buffy was able to deny it though, her driveway was suddenly bombarded by officials and men in uniform. The firemen put out what little fire was left and police had taken Riley and shoved him into one of their cars. Buffy didn't have any comprehension of time as she watched as he was taken away. She was finally jolted out of her trance by a comforting hand on her shoulder—Angel.

"Ready to go?" he spoke softly...sympathetically as well, Buffy decided.

"Are we going already?"

"Gunn got back about ten minutes ago. The car's ready. You've been standing here the whole time. We thought it'd be best if we left you alone for awhile."

"I told them that I didn't want to press charges," Buffy said, even though it was irrelevant to what Angel had been saying. "I think we should go now." She took his arm and together they headed back into the house. "Do you think my moon men melted?"

Angel just laughed and gave her a gentle, reassuring kiss to her forehead. "Those moon men are still safe and sound on their wooden moon bases. I'm sure of it."

**Another unofficial AN: Thanks for all your ideas. I tried to use as many as I could. I'm no longer accepting more ideas cos the stuff that happens after this has already sort of been planned. (And no, not telling.) I did at least an hour of research on MTV and the VMA's since I don't get MTV AT ALL. And I know nothing about any of that stuff. And, btw, a Molotov cocktail is a bottle with flammable liquid (usually kerosene or petrol) with a doused rag stuffed into it and lit like a wick. It explodes like a small grenade. If you've read any of the BtVS novels, I think Chris Golden is the one who writes Angel with a Molotov cocktail.**


	15. Hazard Area: Folds and Faults

**AN:** Okay, okay. I've been asked why Riley did what he did, well I tried explaining it as best I could. I saved the email that I sent the enquirer and here it what I wrote (good luck with comprehending it): ...well, it was mainly an excuse to blow part of the house up but Riley is Buffy's ex-ex. Tyler is Buffy's ex (refer to Becoming Pt.1 for Tyler references). If you really want to hear my reasoning, Riley is pissed off that Buffy didn't come running back into his arms after her boyfriend cheated on her with her best friend (refer to BtVS original 1992 movie for that detail...). She was neglecting her relationship with Tyler at the time because she was busy with her new career. I treat her superstardom as her Slayerdom. It started when she was really young (yep, 15 is young, but it was the same with Mandy Moore). So now Riley comes crawling back, repeatedly trying to get back with Buffy. She's moved on and Riley doesn't want to let go. He hears rumours that Buffy's forgiven Jennifer (Jennifer Walkens, not Jenny Calendar) and is pissed that she would forgive her for something that was unforgivable for a best friend to do. And so Riley strikes out and decides to blow out her front window. There, that's my inner workings of Riley-logic. Of course, my logic refuses to include Pike, but that's okay. Luke Perry doesn't belong in my Buffyverse.

  


* * *

**Part 15**

With Christmas on its way around, Buffy found herself gift shopping at Sunnydale Mall with Will, Xand, Oz and Gunn. She'd been together with Angel for 3 months now, she'd been at SHS for 4 months and she'd been a resident in Sunnydale for 5 months. But still, Buffy felt as if she were living in la-la land. They'd gotten their SATs over and done with and all had, well, in general, received outstanding results. (Buffy had refused to tell her exact score to anyone except for Willow, Angel, Giles and her family. All she DID say was that she got over 1500, which, in itself was an amazing score; Xander had even offered to punch her in the head to help her lose brain cells.)

She seriously doubted she'd even go to college, though—for obvious reasons. Besides having to study, she'd be travelling around, recording a new album, giving interviews and never have time to do assignments or even attend class. Such a hope would be...well, unlikely to be fulfilled (put bluntly).

Relationship wise, they were all doing great—except for Xander, of course. He was struggling to find a girlfriend since the time when he'd gone out with Amy Madison the year before and had had his ego damaged when he was dumped for the Michael, the creepy Goth guy. Willow and Oz were inching towards their one year anniversary, Spike and Faith were horny as always, Buffy and Angel were...getting to be pretty serious and Gunn and Cordy had split shortly after returning from LA. But then Cordelia introduced him to her cousin, Fred, and they were now dating as well. One month for them now, going on two in a week.

It was just over a month until Buffy's 18th birthday and she couldn't wait. Her family was going to be coming to Sunnydale for Christmas and would stay over New Year's until her birthday. The only thing she didn't look forward to about it was that she had to clean up her room. It was a mess. As per usual.

Buffy sighed; it couldn't be avoided. The only way she'd gotten out of spending the whole of her Saturday cleaning her tornado of a room was by telling Giles that they'd made plans a long time ago to go gift shopping. It wasn't a complete lie, but it also wasn't the complete truth, but it seemed to get him off her back and that was all that mattered. **Now, what should I get Angel? God help me; I hate gift shopping.**

*****

"There's a new girl," Xander announced in a sing-song voice the following Monday as soon as he caught up with the rest of his friends, who were currently hoarding around Buffy's locker, laughing.

"Hey Xand," Buffy greeted him with a smile. "There's a new girl?"

"How come you always seem to know when there's a new girl?" Willow asked with mocking suspicion. "You just come to school and just seem to know. It's creepy."

"His locker is just outside Snyder's office," Oz said, revealing one of Xander's most coveted secrets (or so he liked to think).

"Hey! Don't you know anything about being mysterious?"

Oz just shot him a Look and, in his usual tacit way, shrugged casually.

Xander nodded, "Oh, yeah, right...musicians with all their mysteriousness. Damn, if only I'd learnt the guitar instead of the French horn..." He looked inside Buffy's locker, which he hadn't forgotten they'd been laughing about before. "So...what were you guys laughing at?"

"Oh, it's just that I got some pictures of me and Angel developed and I finally got the MTV photo booth pictures scanned and printed so I could show you guys," Buffy beamed, seeing her boyfriend approaching. "Speak of the devil."

"There's a new—" Angel started to say.

"A new girl. Yeah, we know already," Buffy interrupted him. "Are you people always like this when a new person comes to the school? And what about when I was new?"

Angel and Xander swept their eyes guiltily at the ground.

She just laughed and slammed her locker shut. "Let's go find her then."

*****

"Where'd you transfer from, Anya?" Faith asked, poking her spork into a shrivelled up piece of broccoli and wrinkling her nose in disgust.

"I lived in Boston with my Aunt Josephine while my mom was sick and my dad was looking after her. They didn't want me hanging around all the time at home by myself, so they sent me to my aunt. She decided to move here to be closer to the rest of her family, so I came with her. She makes really nice butter cookies," Anya said with a smile.

"Boston, huh?" Faith replied. Next to her was Spike, who obviously wasn't paying attention to the conversation and had turned his attention to the rest of the people around their table. Anything to avoid polite conversation with the creepy (and in his opinion, much too peppy) new girl. "You're one weird chick, but I think I'm gonna like you."

*****

A week later, they were out of school and enjoying their Christmas break by spending time with friends and significant others and having fun when it'd started to hail on Christmas Eve. It was the closest Sunnydale was ever going to get to a white Christmas, but it suited them just fine. It felt like it was snowing. It just wasn't cold. And it had been rather loud when the hail had begun. Okay, so there were very few similarities. Close enough.

Buffy slipped between the covers and quickly fell asleep, even with the exciting anticipation of celebrating Christmas with *both* family and friends, for once. As soon as she closed her eyes, she dreamt...

|| Upon opening her eyes, she felt the coolness of the surface she was lying on—a stone floor. Her vision was blurry until she rubbed her eyes and got up on her not-quite-awake legs.

She felt a pang in her heart as she wandered through what looked like a slightly Gothic mansion. She looked toward the fireplace and felt a warmth in her heart as she remembered its exuberant source of heat, even seeing it blazing there in the hearth for a fraction of a second. A ghost of a flame haunted her along with the memory of a dozen other things about this room that she couldn't for the life of her recognise.

It was darkness everywhere. The only sources of illumination were the dim sconces that were spread sparsely along the edges of the room. Its ceiling was high, and as far as she could tell, no one lived there. It looked abandoned. The table was smashed into pieces and a small, metal pitcher was crushed. To the naked eye, it looked as if it were simply thrown or smashed with a hammer, but when she looked closer, it seemed as if it had been crushed by a person's hand. **Strange.**

On the wall hung a set of manacles fastened from a bracket on the wall. They looked ancient and slightly used. The sight didn't scare her; they just created a familiar feeling in her mind. She recognised their presence from some time in her memory before, like déjà vu, but she knew for a fact that she'd never been here or even seen *manacles* in her life. When could she ever have seen a pair of manacles anyway?

She turned her head and found that a small part of the wall there had been blasted away. The feeling it evoked within her was just like those other times when she'd had déjà vu. Only it was so much stronger now. It was as if it were showing her, no, telling her that something was wrong. A feeling in her gut that told her she'd felt the same way and had done the same things before.

Tracing the pattern on the floor, her gaze rested upon a pair of feet in black leather boots. Slim legs in leather pants all the way up the face of—

"Faith," she said, not quite surprised to see her in her dream.

"It fades. It all fades," the brunette muttered in a barely audible voice, her image flickering as she said it, a bloodied knife appearing in her hand. "Getting towards that time," she said, and disappeared completely. All that left in her wake was the bloodied knife falling to the ground with a seemingly deafening crash.

She lifted her eyes from where they were transfixed on the fallen knife and looked through the doorway through to what looked unmistakably like a bedroom. She took a few, cautious steps toward the doorway and felt as if the more she walked the farther she was away from it. Grinding to a halt, she found herself standing in the doorway, looking at the lifeless form of her boyfriend in the bed. He was draped lightly with a maroon blanket that she longed to feel the texture of. It looked so silky and heavenly. It was beckoning at her to come closer with its ripples and folds.

She reached her hand outwards, but her hand was stopped by another. The skin on the hand was folded in such a way that one simply couldn't call it 'wrinkled'. It wasn't wrinkled. It was folded and bumpy. It had a yellow tinge and the dips between the folds were a blackish brown. The face of the...creature was familiar and was folded in much the same fashion as on her hand. Only it was in a vague pattern that was centred on its nose.

Buffy took one look at it, stumbled back...and screamed. ||

Buffy woke up in a cold sweat, her blankets twisted around her limbs in an odd fashion. She had been writhing, she inferred. She remembered every last detail of her nightmare and it haunted her through the rest of the morning until she couldn't stay still anymore. She had to go. She couldn't stay in this sparklingly clean room of hers...she couldn't stand the sight of it. That thought frightened her almost as much as the thought of the dream haunting her dreams in the nights to come.

*****

She climbed the tree with ease. She could've used the front door, of course, but it was early on Christmas morning and she didn't expect anyone to be awake yet. She bit her lip and wrapped her jacket tighter around herself. Buffy jumped onto the roof from her perch on the branch and rapped on the window three times.

The head of her sleepy boyfriend poked out, tiredly gazing at her and wondering idly how she'd known she'd gone to the right window. "Buffy. What are you doing here, on my roof...at seven in the morning?" he yawned, ushering her in.

Buffy stepped through and sat down on the side of his bed. "Can I stay here for a little while?"

"Buffy, what's wrong?" Angel immediately sat down next to her and took him in his arms. "No one hurt you or anything, right? Giles—"

"No, it's not Giles. Not anyone. I had a nightmare and I woke up in a cold sweat. I can still remember it. Every little detail..." Buffy took one look at his face, broke down and burst into tears, "I'm so scared, Angel, I'm so scared..."

All Angel could do was to hold her, comfort her with his words and by just being there for her. "It's alright. You don't have to tell me anything if you can't...or won't."

"Just hold me," Buffy whispered.

Angel kissed her on the forehead and helped her settle in under his blanket. He got in beside her and wrapped an arm around her waist. "I'll be here. Sleep..."

They both slept soundly until they were woken up hours later by a giddy Bertha Blue scratching at the door and barking her head off until all the occupants of the house were up and angry at Bertha for waking them up.

Buffy snuck back out the way she came and disappeared back to her own home where Giles and her whole family were probably awake and concerned that she'd been kidnapped or that she had runaway. And since the second possibility was a lot less probable than the first one, she ran as quickly as she could in an effort to sneak back in without everyone knowing she had been out in the first place.

Surprisingly, she didn't return to a houseful of people who were so worried that they were about to pull their hair out. All of the staff was on leave, allowing her to creep back in undetected. Apparently, no one had tried waking her up yet. Which would be about right since she didn't usually wake up on non-school days until around 11:30 or midday.

Buffy hurried up the stairs and stepped back into her room, careful to close the door behind her as quietly as possible. "...I can't even remember what the dream was about now. Strange."

She never got that dream again.

*****

Her birthday came and went, and they'd celebrated substantially with a bash at the Bronze with the whole school invited. It was fun and normal and had been just what Buffy needed.

Buffy took out one of the bags that she'd stashed in her wardrobe. She was desperately looking for one of her CDs and had been searching for it high and low. She'd even asked Giles if he'd seen it—she'd asked *Giles*. **He probably doesn't even know what a...wait, yeah he would. He's my manager! He's supposed to know stuff.** She rummaged through all the pockets and compartments. Digging into one of the pockets on the inside, she came upon a small piece of paper. She pulled it out.

Jennifer Walkens. She'd forgotten all about her when they'd been in LA... **How could I have forgotten? She was partially responsible for the front part of my living room being blown up!**

Buffy grumbled and searched through the rest of the bag, finally procuring the elusive CD. She put the slip of paper under a paperweight on her desk and went about getting ready for her date with Angel. It was their fifth month anniversary—not entirely significant, but still worthy for a night on the much-too-boring town—and Buffy intended to look good. Plus, she'd gone shopping the day before and had bought a whole new outfit. After all, it *was* a special occasion.

She slipped her CD in the player and pressed 'play'.

_//Just a day,  
Just an ordinary day  
Just trying to get by  
Just a boy,  
Just an ordinary boy  
But he was looking to the sky//  
_

She quickly changed her earrings to something fancier. She decided on a pair of silver dangly ones that had tiny stones that matched the colour of her outfit embedded in the design. She took a look in the mirror and felt that her neck was a little too bare.

_//And as he asked if I would come along  
I started to realize—  
That everyday you find  
Just what he's looking for,  
Like a shooting star he shines//  
_

Buffy opened the top drawer of her vanity table and lifted her box of necklaces out of it. She took off the lid and placed it to one side of the box. Pawing through the box, Buffy tried necklace after necklace until she decided on a heavy silver cross on a simple snake chain. It'd been part of her birthday present from Angel. The weight of it felt familiar to her and she felt slightly safer while was wearing it, even though she wasn't a very religious person.

_//And he said: Take my hand  
Live while you can  
Don't you see your dreams  
Are right in the palm of your hand?//  
_

She reached her hand back into the box to untangle one of the chains from another when her fingers felt the cool hardness of a large pendant with a gem inside. Buffy couldn't place the necklace with just her sense of touch. She yanked it out and gasped.

_//And as he spoke,  
He spoke ordinary words  
Although they did not feel  
For I felt what I  
Had not felt before  
You'd swear those words could heal//  
_

She dropped the necklace on the floor as she looked up. Her nightmare came rushing back to her as the creature with the folded skin appeared in the mirror, grinning. She was there, in her room. Slowly, Buffy turned around.

_//And as I looked up  
Into those eyes  
His vision borrows mine  
And to know he's no stranger,  
For I feel I've held him for all of time//  
_

"I've been looking for you."

**AN (again): The song was 'Ordinary Day' by Vanessa Carlton.******


	16. Sneezy Demons Never Lie

**Part 16**

"Wh-Who are you?" Buffy managed to stutter. She tried to step back, but was unable to with her vanity directly behind her. No escape. She doubted that she could escape through the window—even if it weren't on the other side of her room.

"What do you mean, 'who are you'? You know who I am and there'll be no fooling me. I'm over eleven hundred years old, child, so don't think you can fool me," the she-creature said in a slightly hissing voice.

"Uh, I *really* don't know who you are. Am I supposed to? I know I don't know any eleven hundred year old...anythings. What *are* you?"

"That's Anyanka to you, thanks. No calling me 'you' or an 'anything'. I'm the friggin' Patron Saint of Scorned Women, for the Devil's sake," Anyanka raged, closing in on a shaken Buffy Summers.

"Anya?" Buffy squinted, recognising the girl's face in amongst the folds of her demonic skin.

Anyanka ran a sharp fingernail along Buffy's cheek, "Ah, yes, my human guise. I can't believe I have to act like a ditz to get attention."

"What—wh-why...?"

"Why you? Oh, nothing, just that it'll be more fun with you. Oh, and you have something I want," Anya had Buffy against the wall by the neck. She was quivering with fright, not quite sure what was going on with this Anya/Anyanka girl.

"Now, what was it that I wanted?" Anyanka pretended to scratch her chin in thought. "I remember now—my necklace! Where is it?"

"Wh-what necklace?"

"It's shiny, and green, and priceless. You have it. I want it back."

"I don't have it!" **And if I did, I wouldn't have remembered it. I'm too scared to think. Someone, help! Where are big strong fellas when I need 'em?**

"You made a wish, and granting it has screwed me over. Telling me that won't save you. In fact, I think killing you and finding it by myself is a good plan," Anyanka squeezed at Buffy's throat even tighter.

"Please! I really don't know."

Anyanka scrutinised her intended victim. "You really don't, do you?" She let go of Buffy's throat when she replied with vigorous nodding. "Then where the fuck is it?"

"Um, um," Buffy scrambled to grab her box of necklaces, "you can check here. It could be there. If it isn't, then I don't have it." She thrust the heavy box towards Anyanka and pressed her back into the side of her vanity table, sinking to the floor.

Buffy watched as the demon pawed through her large collection of chains, pendants, chokers, and various other neck accessories. She flickered her eyes around for another route of escape. Her eyes were caught by something green, and extremely shiny—the exact same necklace she had dropped when Anyanka had appeared so suddenly. It was hidden by the stool at the same vanity table she was leaning against...just put of arm's reach.

Anyanka went through the jewellery and felt frustration building. If it wasn't here, she could either kill the girl and still not find it, or still not find it and kill the girl. It was pretty much a lose-lose situation, if such a phrase even existed.

Buffy discreetly crawled towards the stool and grabbed the necklace. She hid it behind her back and stood up with it clutched behind her back. Shaking slightly, she asked, "What was my wish?"

"I can't remember. Something about being a normal, All-American girl. I'm not *that* boring, so I twisted the wish a bit. Now you really *are* an All-American girl," she chuckled. "Of course, it didn't quite turn out as I intended. You turned out too normal. And I think something went wrong, cos you remember, like, nothing, right?"

"Yeah," Buffy replied uncertainly. "So what are you trying to find your necklace for?"

"To change you back," Anyanka said, bluntly giving her the truth. "I'm not known for subterfuge. Lying is not in my character."

"So why should I help you find your necklace? What was I like before?"

Anyanka stared into Buffy's frightened eyes. "You mean you really don't remember anything?"

"Well, I get déjà vu a lot..."

"That's part of you previous memory, then," Anyanka said with a frown. She paused and looked back up at Buffy. "You were the Slayer—the Chosen One. The one girl in the entire world picked by the high and mighty blippity-boos to fight against vampires and evil stuff. You loved and lost and then went down the deep end. Now, where is my necklace?"

Buffy would believe anything at this point. There was a demon in her room, looking for a necklace which she currently held in her hand. "Is that why I always feel déjà vu when I'm with Angel? Is he the one I loved and lost?"

"Yeah, poor guy. He was a vampire with a soul and you went and had a relationship with him anyway and there was lots of angst. Too bad; he was so much more interesting when he was evil..." Anyanka drifted off and snapped back when she realised that she still had to look for her necklace.

"So...what would happen if your necklace were to be broken or smashed?"

Anyanka perked up, inadvertently changing into her human visage, "Are you starting to remember where it is, by any chance?"

"Sort of," she lied.

"If it were smashed, the last wish I granted would be revoked and something—I *don't* know what—happens to me. Not something pleasant, which is why I need to find it *now*. So, do you know where it is or not?"

"It's coming back to me. I think that I...I don't know. I think I hid it under the bed, near the headboard," Buffy said, pointing to her bed. "So, what was the last wish you granted?"

"This woman in Boston wished that a computer dropped on her husband and killed him, but since I didn't have the necklace with me or on the woman, it didn't work very well and it only gave him a concussion," she shrugged casually, "which is exactly why I need the necklace." Anyanka slipped her head underneath the bed in search of her precious necklace. "You know, it's weird. You're too easy to talk to. Must be one of those flaws I so stupidly put in."

Buffy grinned and placed the necklace on the ground. She picked up the box that used to contain all her necklaces and dropped it onto the pendant, effectively smashing it into bits that went flying, finally turning into a puff of green smoke and light. Buffy lifted the box again and found that nothing remained from the necklace. Not even the gold chain that it was on.

Anyanka's eyes rolled back in their sockets and she collapsed against the cold wooden floorboards. She was halfway underneath the bed, reminding Buffy slightly of the Wicked Witch of the East in the 'Wizard of Oz'.

_//And he said: Take my hand  
Live while you can  
Don't you see your dreams  
Are right in the palm of your hand?  
In the palm of your hand//  
_

Buffy looked over at her CD player in surprise. **Weird. Maybe she froze time or something. Good, now I don't have to worry about being late for my date with Angel.**

"Anya?" Buffy asked as cautiously approached her bed, peering underneath at the slackened form of the demon/saint known as Anyanka.

"Achoo!"

Buffy nearly jumped out of her skin in surprise at the sound of the sneeze.

_//Please come with me  
See what I see  
Touch the stars for  
Time will not flee  
Time will not flee  
Can you see?//  
_

"What did you do to me?" Anyanka screeched angrily. She got back to her feet and tried to hold her against the wall again, but was easily refuted by Buffy's counterattack. "What the—? You're a measly mortal; you're not strong enough to fight back."

Anyanka spun angrily and paced back and forth, scrunching her face up in an attempt to change back into her demon façade. All she got was strange looks from Buffy.

"You made me mortal," Anya cried, clenching her fists and breathing heavily to subdue her rage.

"Don't forget the 'measly'."

"Are you making fun of me?"

"Uh," Buffy paused and wondered if it was such a good idea to insult her when she was already so apparently angered, "no."

"Good. Cos I'm going to fix this and when I get back, I'm going to kill you. Horrifically," she bit out, and with a flick of her curly, honey blonde hair, she had disappeared out the door.

_//Just a dream,  
Just an ordinary dream  
As I wake in bed  
And the boy,  
That ordinary boy  
Or was it all in my head?//  
_

Buffy collapsed on the floor with shock. **Right, well my life is a sham. How peachy...** She curled up into a ball and cried her mascara away until it blackened her cheeks in watery streaks. She looked like a mess, but she didn't care. Angel could see her like this—it didn't matter. What mattered now, anyway? If this life was all fake, then why shouldn't she let him see her like that? She wasn't real. He wasn't real. None of them were real.

_//Did he ask if I would come along?  
It all seemed so real//  
_

She sat down at her vanity table and wiped away the mess on her face with a tissue. Picking up a brush, she ran it through her hair and stared blankly at her own reflection. **Did I even look like this in my other life?** Buffy put it into her drawer and shook her head lightly. **Does it matter? Fuck...this song is too appropriate. It all seems too real to me that I never questioned anything. And it turns out it really is all a sham. A big, fat, shammy...sham.**

_//But as I looked to the door  
I saw that boy standing there with a deal//  
_

Buffy head her head in her hands and bit her lip. **If only it were true. If Angel were here, he'd know what to do.** She looked at the door, wanting desperately to see his face, smiling at her. But the doorframe was empty. After all, he wasn't expected to arrive until later. They had a date. One which she was going to be late for if she didn't get it together. **And if Giles finds out that we're more than friends, he'll chuck a fit...or something. I can't imagine him chucking a fit, actually. Don't come home yet, Giles, please don't get home early. Run extra errands or something.**

She pressed 'pause' on her CD player and wiped the last traces of her tears from her cheeks. They were shiny because of her tears and had turned a healthy, rosy colour.

Staring at herself in the mirror, she realised she didn't have a clue what she was doing. She was dressed, her hair was done, her make-up hadn't screwed up THAT bad and she was ready to go. So she just sat there. And waited. And thought about what Anya had said to her.

She was startled out of her thoughts by the sound of the phone ringing. **Please let it be Angel!** She picked it up and timidly said, "Hello?"

"Buffy?" It was Angel. "Is anything wrong? I just had the feeling that something was wrong and I felt the need to call you," he said hesitantly. "I know, it sounds stu—"

"It's not stupid. I need to talk to you," Buffy said softly. "As soon as possible."

Angel panicked. She wasn't pregnant, that was for sure—they hadn't even gotten to that stage yet. And he knew she wouldn't cheat on him. He had faith in her loyalty—and she to his. "Of course. I'll be there in under a minute." **So what could it be?**

"Okay, bye," Buffy said almost too late as he slammed down the phone in his rush to see her. She put down the receiver and wondered what exactly she planned to tell him. She sighed and pressed the 'pause' button again on her CD player.

_//And he said: Take my hand  
Live while you can  
Don't you see your dreams  
Are right in the palm of your hand?  
In the palm of your hand  
In the palm of your hand//  
_

Buffy crossed the room to look out the window. She could see Angel running through the gates, giving the guard there a polite nod as he passed by. Buffy smiled. **My life may be a sham, but at least I have Angel.**

_//Just a day,  
Just an ordinary day  
Just trying to get by  
Just a boy,  
Just an ordinary boy  
But he was looking to the sky//  
_


	17. The Best Comfort is Kinky Fun

**Part 17**

Buffy sat back down on her bed and clutched her legs to her body. She trembled and wished she'd gotten that dreaded Anya/Anyanka girl to tell her the whole story. Or at least tell her in more detail. She was so full of questions that she was sure she was near bursting. She wiped away a few of her runaway tears as they broke free from her eyes of their own volition.

She pressed her head to her knees and clutched her metal cross and prayed to God that what Anya had said was untrue. That she was lying just to get to her. But her reasoning got away from her and pointed out that that theory wouldn't make sense, especially since she just happened to be in possession of the necklace and, at times, lived such a charmed life that she wondered if it were all a very realistic dream—okay, a very *long* realistic dream that would disprove the common theory that pain couldn't be felt in the dreaming state.

**No wonder all this crap has been going on in the past few months...like what happened with Riley. Oh, and I'm gonna kill Jennifer. I swear, I see people hiding in cars with tinted windows all over the place. All good things come to an end, right?**

"Buffy?"

She looked up and saw Angel standing in her doorway, breathless yet barely breaking a sweat. She didn't respond, only shifting aside to make room for him to sit down next to her.

"Buffy? What's wrong?" He closed the door behind him and sat down next to her. He spoke in a concerned tone of voice and tried desperately to catch her gaze. She just looked down at her hands and bit her lip nervously.

"You'll think I'm crazy or weird or something," she whispered uncertainly.

Angel sighed and knelt in front of her and looked straight into her distraught eyes. He brought his thumb up to her face to wipe away the fresh tear on her cheek. Buffy smiled at him in return and fidgeted with her hands. Angel rested his hands over hers to stop them moving and said, "You can tell me. I won't think you're weird. Never."

"No, you'll go all Noel and Ben on me and think I'm schizophrenic or something."

Angel's face scrunched up in puzzlement. "Not following."

"In the last season of Felicity, Megan did a spell on Felicity to make her go back in time. It worked and then she tried to tell Noel and Ben what had happened, but they thought she'd gone schizo. They even looked up the symptoms on the Net and admitted her into a hospital," Buffy explained, but Angel struggled to keep up.

"So...what was it that you're trying to tell me?"

"Well, you know Anya, right?"

Buffy told him everything that had happened. It'd only been a few minutes ago, but it felt like the issue had been resting on her shoulders (not to mention, her thoughts) for hours. It seemed like it took an eternity with all the little questions he kept asking, but she finally got the message through.

"So, do you think I'm crazy?"

Angel gulped. He hadn't been expecting to hear what she'd told him. How in another life he was supposed to have been a vampire with a soul and she was a vampire slayer in love with him. It explained a lot, but he still had questions. Lots of questions. "No, I don't. It explains the déjà vu and how I felt so strongly for you when I first met you. How you manage to be so smart. How you're so perfect."

"Now isn't the time for flattery, Romeo. Especially when I don't even know what's real and what's there because of my wish. I don't even know if Buffy is my real name," she was close to wailing in distress. "Not that it's such a great name anyway." She collapsed into his strong arms and they fell backwards from the force of her projection onto the hard ground at the end of her bed.

**Uh-oh. Awkward situation.**

Buffy got up, allowing Angel to sit up as well. He ran a hand through his hair. "So...do you have a reply or is it gonna be one of the awkward silence things?" Buffy self-consciously fixed up her clothes and folded her arms over her chest so as to hide herself from his view. No need to make an already awkward enough situation even more awkward than it already was.

Angel sat down next to her, leaning against the side of her bed. He took one of her hands in both of his and held on tight. "I'm real," he said and tucked a bunch of loose hair behind her ear. "You're real. Does it really matter if it's real? It's real to you and me and everyone else. You *really* went through everything to get to where you are now. Your life isn't a sham. You lived through it and worked hard to get where you are now." Angel gently took her chin and turned her head to face him. He was mesmerised by her eyes; they told him all of her thoughts.

She wanted to accept what he'd said to her. It made sense, but it didn't seem right. It was almost as if she was cheating or won a rigged lottery or something. Yet she still wanted to believe and accept his words. She *did* work hard all her life. She'd lost friends because she chose to follow her budding singing career. It hadn't always been a smooth ride to fame.

"It might sound out of the blue, but...I love you."

Buffy was snapped out of her thoughts. "Did you just say what I thought you said?"

Angel brought his other hand up to touch her cheek. It felt real to both of them—Angel felt the silken skin beneath his fingertips twitch at the warmth they brought to her cheek—there was no denying it. Without replying, he pulled her to him and took her lips in an agonisingly slow, yet passionate, kiss.

Buffy couldn't stand it anymore. She didn't want to go all safe and slow anymore. Sham or no sham, she wanted him with every inch of her being and she wasn't about to wait for a moment to come up as perfect as this, even though they were sitting on her cold bedroom floor and she had traces of ruined mascara on her cheeks. She wrapped both arms around his neck to bring him closer and for a more passionate and fervent kiss. Her heart sped up with anticipation as Angel responded with an equal amount of ferocity.

She inched her way into her lap and entwined herself with him, taking every measure to make sure they were as close together as they could possibly be and that no even a wisp of sunlight could pass between them. She pressed her body against his wrapped her legs around his waist, pressing herself even closer to him.

Angel ran his hands over her back and played with the ends of her silky golden hair. It felt so right, being there with her, and sharing whatever feelings they had between them. She had yet to return his loving sentiment, but he was sure that he didn't need to hear it to know that she felt the same way.

His hands trailed southward and wandered to her round, firm ass and taking a seemingly effortless heave, had them standing and falling down onto her bed a split-second later. He pulled away from her kiss to admire her fully. He couldn't imagine how he could ever have thought so little of her in the beginning. Just another teen popstar—a teenybopper if you will. But she had proved him wrong. She was beautiful, witty, easygoing, even smart; and above all else, she was the woman he had come to fall in love with.

Angel leaned over and whispered in her ear. "Are you sure about this?"

Buffy looked up into his eyes and spoke with an unwavering voice. "Surer than I've ever been or ever will be."

*****

Angel woke up later and found several bare limbs entangled with his own. Smiling down at the owner of said limbs, he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead and checked for the time on the clock sitting next to her bed. It was still early—only 8 o'clock. They hadn't fallen asleep for too long; luckily. He was still incredibly tired, however, what with all the horizontal tango he and Buffy had engaged in.

Buffy turned away from him in her sleep and felt the absence of Angel pressed against her skin. Unconsciously, she wriggled backwards until they were pressed together once more and grabbed one of his hands to drape over her waist. She let out a soft sigh and snuggled into the pillows.

Angel restrained a laugh and began drawing delicate circles on the smooth skin of her belly. She quickly woke up, squealing at the sensation. "Stop! I'm ticklish!"

"Oh, are you now?" Angel teased, not letting up his gentle torture. He moved his tickling fingers agonisingly slowly upwards and crept under her body to her back. He lifted her into a sitting position and kissed her with a giddy smile plastered on his face.

"I hope it isn't late," Buffy said worriedly. "Giles could catch us. He'd chuck a spaz and call my parents and tell them that he found me naked and in bed with an incredibly gorgeous guy. I don't think it'd bode well with my parents."

"However, I don't think Giles would describe me as gorgeous," Angel said in amusement while his wandering fingers fidgeted with the soft ends of her now slightly-messy hair.

"I realise that. But that's how *I'd* describe you." Buffy inched closer to him and sat in his lap, "Besides, you're my hottie and mine alone. I can't have Giles or any old bimbo saying that you're incredibly gorgeous."

"Not even my sister?"

"You don't have a sister."

"What about your sister then?"

"She doesn't count."

"Fine. You win."

"Do I get a prize?" Buffy asked, wrapping her arms around his neck and a suggestive look on her face.

"Of course," Angel replied, pulling her lips into a kiss. And into another...and another...and another. He struggled to pull away from the tantalising warmth of his girlfriend but eventually succeeded when Buffy decided that she was out of oxygen.

"I should really...go now," he said, panting heavily.

"I agree—you should go or...I'm gonna do something really irresponsible and get myself into a big mess," she agreed, moving away from him to turn on a bedside lamp.

Angel just nodded and began to search for his clothes, which had been strewn in amongst hers and tangled within the bed sheets.

Buffy tried not to sneak herself a peek but couldn't help herself when he bent over to look for his shoes under a chair in the corner. Quickly realising what she'd done, she darted beneath the covers until Angel gave her the okay.

"You know, it's all right to want to look."

"Yeah, but it'll remove the temptation." Buffy grinned as Angel approached her and gave a fiery kiss, regardless.

"I'll just...duck out the window," Angel said, gesturing to the window Buffy had snuck out months ago after her nightmare. He hopped out and was gone a minute later.

Buffy sighed and smoothed back her hair, falling back against her pillows. Not ten seconds later, Angel found his way to the side of her bed and dropping another kiss to her forehead.

"Happy five-month anniversary," he whispered and was once again out the window.

Buffy bit her lip to keep herself from giddy giggling that she could feel coming on. She couldn't hold it back and threw herself under the covers to muffle the sound of her laughter. Also, she had no wish to be caught giggling half covered in bed with no clothes on, mussed hair and twisted bedding. It would be awful suspicious.

Hopping out of bed, she pulled on whatever clothes she could find and scampered off to find the bathroom. She had no wish to wash away the remnants of what she'd just done as if she regretted it, but the small trail of blood on her thigh was going to be...messy, if not taken care of soon. Unlike her other suspicious problems, this wouldn't be as easy to explain away. **Fuck! I'm not a virgin anymore. How weird is that? Woah. Be kind, rewind. I just lost my virginity. And it just occurred to me that I didn't tell him I loved him, too. Ah, very smart Buffy...very smart.**

Buffy shook her head regretfully as she twisted the handles of her shower. **I'll tell him when the time is right.**


	18. She Loves Me, She Loves Me Not

**Part 18**

Buffy reluctantly pulled out several suitcases from her wardrobe and started to pull out clothes from all over the place...just as reluctantly. **Would it kill Giles to let me know a while *beforehand*?** She grumbled. She would away from Sunnydale for over a fortnight and she was being forced to be around stuffy old Giles—however nice he was, he just couldn't take the place of friends (or Angel)—Gunn and, every so often, bits of her family. She was going to Los Angeles again, not because she wanted to visit her family (which she made a habit of doing every other weekend), but because *Lilah* was pestering her about doing some publicity so that her presence wouldn't fall down the proverbial rabbit hole.

Buffy desperately wanted to stay at home—after all, it was going to be their 8 month anniversary soon and graduation shortly after she came back. No missing of finals, much to her disappointment.

Eight months was a long time, Buffy stopped to ponder it. **Eight months is, like, two-thirds of a year... It's almost as unbelievable as how I long it's taking to tell Angel that I love him.** Buffy huffed as she recalled how badly-timed every single time she'd tried had been. Once, they had been at Angel's and she'd started to tell him right after another round of sex—at the exact time that Spike had bellowed, "Are you two finally finished shagging yet?" just outside the bedroom door.

That particular occurrence had been about a month and a half ago, and it was still embarrassing to remember. Everyone barged in upon hearing Spike's shouting, including Angel's parents, Faith, Spike, one of the maids and even the dog.

Another time, she'd been interrupted by a waiter who'd asked what kind of sauce she'd like with her lobster, another had been halted when a streaker jumped the fence to her home and wouldn't stop throwing himself against the window, and again when Dawn skipped into the room and joked about her being all "kissy-faced", just to annoy her. It was bordering on being annoying. Maybe she'd fall down the stairs next time or get sneezed on by a man with the Ebola virus. They would make fabulous interruptions as well; nice and deadly.

She pulled a case out from her vanity table and started filling it with things from her drawers—mostly makeup and hair accessories and other such toiletries. She threw it into one of her suitcases and moved onto packing some jewellery and her phone charger. After all, she was going to have to charge her phone after calling Angel for hours on end and telling him how much she missed him and loved him.

She picked up a couple of other things from her wardrobe and slammed all her suitcases closed. Giles told her this morning that they would leave this afternoon—always so kind and considerate of the needs of other people, he was.

**Oh well, at least maybe I can finally pay Jennifer a visit. I've put it off for long enough.** She hurried down the stairs and raided the kitchen cupboards for a few snacks to bring with her on the trip—Oreos, assorted lollies and other (much healthier) snack foods. She threw them haphazardly into a backpack and loaded a few CDs in with her Discman and hopped into the waiting car.

"Gunn? Is my stuff in the car?"

"Umm...what's the rush?" He asked with a raised eyebrow and a suspicious tone.

"Oh, it's just that the sooner I see Lilah, the sooner I can punch her face in," Buffy shrugged. "Or at least yell at her, cos I think she'd be too tall for me to punch properly."

"Uh-huh. I see," he nodded, not sounding at all as if he meant it. "Upset about having to leave lover boy all on his lonesome with a town full of pretty girls?"

"No," she replied sharply. "There's no one in Sunnydale to meet anyway. There aren't any pretty girls around and I'm not as paranoid as you seem to think I am. I'm just going to miss him." Buffy folded her hands in her lap and gave Gunn a wary look. "And don't you dare tell Giles about him. He'll freak and he'll blame you."

"No he won't."

"Fine, he won't, but he might and could."

"Sure, sure, whatever, Buffy. Your bags are all in the trunk and the old guy's bringing his own stuff down so I guess we're stuck here for another five or six hours," Gunn joked, pretending to casually inspect his fingernails as he spoke.

She punched him playfully in the arm, "He's not that bad you know. I happen to like Giles and I think he's a good father-ish figure to me."

"Uh-huh. And caterpillars have legs."

"Gunn, caterpillars *do* have legs."

"Really? Oops."

*****

"Okay. You have 4 magazine interviews and 3 television interviews," Lilah went through a list of things in her notebook and stabbed a pen next to each item as she told Buffy about them. "And don't argue. You're in high demand right now and I intend for you to take full advantage of it. Especially since you intend to record a new album over the summer and have it released. I know you and I know that you want it to be successful even after such a long break from the industry."

"Yeah, yeah, I know all this. Just get to the bit where I can huff and stalk off because I feel inconvenienced," Buffy said is as much of a bored tone as she could manage. It was boring, but it was necessary. One of those things that you hated having to do but had to do anyway. Like cleaning your room or doing homework. **ESPECIALLY cleaning my room. I swear, I don't even know how it can get so messy. It's not my fault.**

"Uh, Lilah, how long do you expect this to take?" Giles butted in.

Lilah flipped through a few of the files spread out on her desk and pursed her lips. Her eyebrows went up slightly, Buffy noticed, and her frown turned into a smile. "No need to worry. We'll have her back in time for graduation."

"I better be. Or else you can consider yourself fired," Buffy bit out and slumped into an armchair with her arms folded over her chest.

Lilah was taken aback and shuffled through the files again, "Okay, then, as long as it goes smoothly and we don't have any hitches, deaths, or accidents, I'm sure you'll make it. Is that better?"

Buffy didn't like the woman...but she was good at what she did.

*****

"So she hasn't said the three little words yet, is that what you're worried about?" Willow asked Angel as soon as their maths lesson was over. Only so much could be said when passing notes behind the back of their maths teacher. It was almost as if he had eyes in the back of his head and sound bugs disguised as pieces of gum stuck under the desks.

"No," Angel grunted in reply. He was missing Buffy already and she'd only been gone for two days. She'd called him just before she'd started packing and had said that she wished he could come along. She'd called him both days she was gone as well and had assured him that she was fine and that she was going to be back in time for both prom and graduation.

"No she hasn't or no she has?" Willow crinkled her eyebrows together in confusion. She'd assumed that Buffy had told him already—they were all over each other all the time and were jaded whenever they were together—it was love with a big L.

"Uh...the first one?"

"So she hasn't... What do you think she feels?"

"Most of the time, she seems to feel the same way I do about her. The rest of the time, it's like she's guilty about being with me, wary of getting close to me in public. Sometimes it's as if she's just about to admit to something, but stops herself at the last minute... I dunno. I'm confused," Angel shook his head in defeat. He loved her, of that he was sure, but did she love him?

"Well, have you considered other reasons for her behaviour?" Willow suggested.

"What? Like that she's cheating on me?"

"No! Not that. She'd never cheat on you. Remember, she's been cheated on before," Willow pointed out, pausing briefly to hit the locker door with her fist, causing it to spring open. "Maybe she's treading carefully, or taking it slow, or wary of being hurt, or worried about the whole deal with the fame and all that. There are *heaps* of reasons why she could be stalling. And hey, maybe she wants to tell you but doesn't ever have the guts to say it."

"...I guess you're right...but I could never see Buffy not having the guts to say something."

"Hey everyone," Xander jumped into the conversation, surprising both Willow and Angel and causing them both to jump. "What's the what? Am I missing any juicy gossip? Is Mr BigShot here kicked out of the swim team or something?"

"Dream on, Xander," Angel snorted.

"Hey, it's not my fantasy. Just my odd new obsession. Angel? In the swim team? Who'd have thought?"

"I don't see *you* having groupies."

"Hey, no bickering. You do it all the time and th-there just comes a point wh-when a person just wants to explode because...just because," Willow...exploded. She had her fists clenched and her arms held stiffly at her sides.

Angel and Xander nodded, fearing the fury that lurked within her posture.

"Good."

"He started it," Xander muttered under his breath.

"Did not."

Willow just glared at them. She flung her bag over her shoulder and looked at Xander expectantly.

"Um...sorry?"

"Apologise later. I need to talk to Angel."

"Okay, I'll just...stand here on my own. Watching the world pass me by, whatever you—oof!" Xander's muttering ended as soon as he crashed into something. Or rather it crashed into him since he was standing still. It was soft, warm and floral...and had breasts. **Okay, so far so good. As long as it isn't Harmony or my English teacher, I think I'll be right as rain.**

"Hi Xander," Anya piped up. "Do you have a date to prom?"

**Or not.**

*****

Buffy punched in the phone number that had been ingrained in her memory for the past eight or so months. She missed Angel desperately and it had only been a week. A long, hard week full of missing Angel, doing promotional work and working on the new album. She wouldn't be recording until summer, but Giles—the ever-efficient Brit—had insisted upon it. She'd been writing songs since August for this album and had Jenny train her voice every other week to keep it up to scratch and the cheerleading had taken the place of her regular dance practices. She wanted this more than almost anything and had done this kind of thing before (without him), yet she still couldn't help wishing that he was there with her.

His presence in her life had become this...force that she expected to be there all the time. It didn't help that she had to keep the fact that she had a boyfriend a secret from Giles. He had forbidden it on the grounds of possible impregnation, emotional trauma and of change in public image.

"Angel?" Buffy whispered into her mobile. She'd called every night, but she'd never missed him as much as she did now.

"Buffy? Is there anything wrong?" Angel spoke softly, concern pouring from his tone of voice. "Are you sick, injured, dying, pregnant, or in danger?"

"No, no, nothing like that," Buffy laughed. "I just miss you."

And so they talked and talked...and talked and talked some more. Before they knew it, they'd talked for one and a half hours about the littlest, most unimportant of things. She almost felt as if she were with him instead of speaking to him through a bunch of wires. His voice soothed her and she was almost falling asleep to the sound of his voice.

"Wow, it's almost one. I need to get up at seven tomorrow. It's for something or other. I'm not sure. Probably a photo shoot. I heard something along those lines..." Buffy trailed off. "It'd be so great if you could come out here for the weekend. But with Giles around, I don't think it's a good idea. Sometimes I think he's more protective of me than my own father."

"I'll see what I can do. I could arrange to stay with friends or family in LA," he suggested, "or something."

"Really? That'd be...that'd be really sweet of you."

"Okay then, I'll try. I love you. Bye," Angel said, nearly kissing the mouthpiece of the phone but deciding against it after feeling that it would sound odd from the other end of the line.

"I..." Buffy started to say, but halted herself just in time. She still wanted it to be special. Not over the phone while they were both dressed in their pyjamas and half asleep. "I miss you. Bye."


	19. Revelations, The Plural

**Part 19**

Teen People Magazine:

Buff's Mystery Beau

Who is the guy that the Teen People spies have constantly been spotting Buffy with this weekend? The pair have been spotted gallivanting around Los Angeles and Santa Monica with her trusty bodyguard, Gunn, and has even been spotted with the Buffster's little sister.

Now, the staff here at TPM aren't usually big gossipers, but many of the crew here in downtown LA have sneaking suspicions that this mystery guy could be a new "friend" from the tiny Californian town of...well, actually we're not allowed to say due to legal matters.

They have been spotted sharing kisses and...other such affection. Could it be love? Maybe we'll find out next month when we interview her again to get the low-down on her senior year experience.

*****

Giles put down Lilah's magazine, mustering as much of his calmness as he could and putting it to use in preventing his hand from shaking as it moved. He stood stock still for a few moments before he looked Lilah eerily in the eye, his fury evident in his demeanour.

"So... What do you think of this?" Lilah timidly asked. Lilah was never timid. She never even knew she could be. But, alas, she could and currently was.

"I think I'm very ashamed that this could happen right under my nose," Giles bit out. His face was slowly turning red with his anger. It didn't help that it was neither hot nor sunny in the spot he was standing and that he was wearing a blindingly white shirt.

"...Under your nose?"

"His name is Angel and he lives just down the street. They seem to have keeping the pretence that they are just good friends," Giles explained. Feeling the need to fidget, he removed his glasses from his nose and polished them with a handkerchief that he'd pulled out of his pocket. He sighed and took a seat in one of the chairs in front of Lilah's desk. "God knows how long they've been keeping up the charade... What do you suggest we do about it, Miss Morgan?"

"What do I suggest? I suggest that you do what you feel is appropriate. The publicity isn't exactly negative, I must mention. I've gotten at least ten calls this morning. Also, apart from this appearing in Teen People, I picked up a few others that said basically the same thing," Lilah opened a desk drawer and pulled out a small stack of magazines, all showing similar fuzzy pictures of Buffy and Angel together. "Plus, from a female point of view, this...Angel guy is pretty good looking."

"Good God..." Giles muttered, flipping through the stack and squinting at a few of the photos. "I'll have to speak to Buffy about this." He put the stack back onto the desk and grabbed his coat from the back of the chair. He slipped it on and quickly grabbed the magazine on the top of the pile. "Do you mind?"

"Oh, no, not at all," Lilah said pleasantly.

"Thank you for calling me in. I'll get back to you about the situation as soon as possible," Giles said hurriedly and dashed out the door and in search of his wayward charge/client. He had enough difficulty as it was trying to hold the views and opinions of a guardian and a manager at the same time as it was. Now *this* happens...what to do, what to do?

*****

"You want me to do *what*?" Buffy nearly fell off of her chair as she spoke. She fumed inside, reprimanding herself for getting herself in such a situation. She'd known that they'd been watched, and ignorance was now no longer bliss.

"Break it off. Simple as that," Giles said calmly, trying to act oblivious to Buffy's rage.

Buffy sat back to think for a moment. "And what would be the consequence of not breaking up with Angel?"

"Well, if you..." Giles made a vague gesture with his hands and grimaced when Buffy just responded with a puzzled expression, "...you know. You could end up pregnant. You're a role model."

Buffy sighed and nodded. She couldn't disagree with that. It *could* happen and it *would* ruin the role model image that Lilah had worked so hard on with her. "What else?"

"Well, does it really matter? There are reasons why we don't want you to have romantic relationships and very good reasons that you've heard over and over again. Yet you still disobeyed me and went about this under my nose. You have no respect for me, or the job I perform. You should have at least told me. Maybe I would not have been as angered if I didn't have to find out through a bloody magazine, of all things," Giles carelessly dropped the magazine on his desk, directly in front of her. "There are more at Lilah's office and I imagine that news has gotten right around the country and back already. I've heard rumours reported and forwarded to me from Lilah before, but this..."

Buffy brushed away the stray tears from her cheeks and glanced passively down at the copy of Teen People. "I respect you, Giles, I really do. But sometimes I just want to control my own life."

"We're just concerned. And as your manager, I just want you to remember that what seems good and well now may not be as good and well in the future."

*****

*ding dong*

Buffy waited patiently with her hands rested neatly in front of her, one hand over the other. In them she clutched a small handbag with the address of (hopefully) Jennifer Walkens—her so-called friend. She had acted oddly the last time she'd seen her and Buffy wanted nothing more than to confirm the responsibility of revealing her address to several now-well-known freelance photographers. Pictures of her home in Sunnydale taken from behind the gates appeared in several magazines, but, luckily, legalities prevented them from revealing more than that she was in California. **Thank God...**

Lack of privacy was on the rise all around her now, especially after the debacle of being caught with Angel just recently. She had always felt as if someone was watching her and that she was never alone. It chilled her to the bone to wonder what it could be. All she could be thankful for was that Jennifer hadn't sold her address and phone number to the highest bidder at EBay and that there wasn't a permanent fan-campsite on the narrow strip of lawn between the fencing in front of her house and the footpath.

*ding dong* Buffy rang the bell again, this time more impatiently.

"Coming!" A female voice came screeching from the other side of the door. Buffy then heard several thumps and the sound of a bag of indeterminate description being dropped hurriedly on the ground. As soon as there was silence, the door flung open, revealing a breathless Jennifer in a slightly rumpled prom dress and hair mussed in a haphazard fashion that would make any observer presume she'd just come from a lengthy tumble in the sheets.

"Buffy?" Jennifer's eyes widened and started to close the door.

Buffy put one hand on the door and stopped it from closing completely. She stepped in cautiously and gave a nervous glance to Gunn, who was waiting in the car in the driveway. He had insisted in coming with her, but she would have none of it. Right now she didn't feel quite as confident. **Gulp. My throat is so dry I have to think it instead of doing it... Gee, I'm not nervous.**

"So are you going to just stand there or are you going to take advantage of barging into my home?" Jennifer asked, scrunching up her nose as she brought a hand up to inspect the damage to her hair. She quickly fell into the nearest chair and had a mirror in front of her face. "Ew, gross. Couldn't you have come later? Say, three o'clock? At least then you could be sure that I'd be able to concentrate on whatever scolding you have in store for me."

"I have a life, too," Buffy said, stating the obvious. She took a seat across from Jennifer and gazed around her surroundings. "Not bad...how'd your parents afford to get a place like this? Winning the lottery?"

"As a matter of fact, it was an inheritance from some...uncle...person. I don't know. It's one of those strange relatives that you meet once and forget about until you get forced to go to their funeral by your parents," she shrugged and put her mirror back where she'd picked it up.

"You know why I'm here. So, spill."

"I'm surprised it's taken so long," Jennifer smiled with an unnerving wickedness that sent shivers down Buffy's spine.

"I'm a busy person."

"So, what do you want me to tell?" Jennifer asked with a tired sigh. She opened a nearby drawer and took out a packet of cigarettes, a lighter and an intricate crystal contraption that slightly resembled an ashtray and a pug at the same time. "Do you want the whole story?"

"If you wouldn't mind telling it." Buffy shifted uncomfortably in her seat as Jennifer blew a puff of cigarette smoke in her direction. "And if you wouldn't mind blowing your smoke in a different direction so that you can't be liable to causing my hypothetical cancer on the grounds of forced passive smoking."

"Steely, aren'tcha?" Jennifer smirked. "Fine you wanna know the whole story, I'll give it to you.

"You and I, best of friends, blah blah blah. You started getting into your whole music gig and you neglected both me and Tyler. And so we became friends and we grew close. You found out and got pissed at the both of us, some more blah. I decided I didn't want to be your little sidekick anymore and so I got with him after the two of you broke up.

"As you can see, we weren't really at fault in the whole ordeal—you were. You were so stuck into this new life of yours that you didn't even notice how it was affecting the rest of us.

"I came in contact with your crazy ex, Riley, a few months ago. Now, he was pissed at you because you dumped him for Tyler. He was freaky. I don't know how I survived. He got me your new address since he'd been stalking you for a while—from just before your move to about a month after. I paid you that little visit to scope things out for myself and, hopefully, or so I'd planned, I'd confront you with my grudge. It didn't work and I ran home with my tail between my legs and with a new vengeance. I was jealous, I'll admit, so I tried all sorts of crazy things to try to inflict pain on you—voodoo, magick, gossiping...they all didn't work. Then I met a couple of struggling photographers and, well...I actually can't remember.

"Riley came to my house a couple of days after that, demanding that I tell him what went down between you and I. I wanted him to be angry with you, so I told him you'd apologised to me. He wanted your apology as well, but that didn't quite work out either, huh? Blew away the front of your parents' house."

Buffy blinked. It all sort of made sense now. Who would've thought that a fake life could be so complicated? She took in a deep breath and opened her mouth slightly and then hesitated. She looked down at her hands and saw that they were shaking. Lifting her head, she stared straight into Jennifer's eyes and said, "I'm sorry...for everything...especially for being such a bad—and selfish—friend."

Jennifer nodded slowly, "Apology accepted." She burst out into a smile, "Looks like the neglect paid off for you, however. I'm happy for you. Oh, and I saw those photos of you and your boy and I must say, nice catch."

Buffy grinned and bounced slightly in her seat as she spoke. "He's hotter in person."

*****

"I can't believe prom is over," Willow said (almost) mournfully. She clutched to Oz's arm as they entered the Bronze for the after party. "I mean, whoa, we've almost finished high school."

"Shocking," Oz agreed.

"I can't believe Spike and Faith have already disappeared," Angel added with a laugh, "I thought their willpower was stronger than that."

"I think that maybe they're just smarter than the rest of us," Buffy replied, grinning from ear to ear. "Think of it this way: less partying = more energy + more time."

"Spike...smart? Uh-uh, not possible," Xander shook his head. Anya was clinging to his arm and nearly cutting off his circulation. Her presence was comforting, though. He didn't very much fancy going to the prom all on his lonesome—or worse, having prom pictures in his attic to be pulled out in fifty years time only to be reminded that he was the loser that no one really wanted to go with. In other words, Anya was his only (hopeless) hope.

Yes, life was often unfair.

Out of nowhere, an arm with a semi-transparent pink shawl draped over it appeared from in front of them and the fist it was connected to punched Angel in the nose, startling Xander, and everyone else, out of their thoughts.

"Darla?" Angel clutched his throbbing nose and found a few small traces of blood just below his nose. He kept his hands on his face and hoped that there wouldn't be any swelling when he looked at his own reflection tomorrow morning.

"Liar!" Darla shouted, causing the whole room to hush.

"Wh-what do you mean?"

"What do I mean? You know very well what I mean," she snapped. "You only went out with me because of a bet—that's what."

Angel froze. He found his gaze inching toward his date.

Buffy blinked, not quite sure whether or not to believe what this girl...Darla had accused her boyfriend of. The guilty look on his face spoke a thousand words. **Was I a bet, too?** She didn't want to know the answer to that. Instead she threw a disgusted glance to Angel and fled the scene with her tears unshed and quickly welling up in her eyes. **I guess I was wrong about him. Maybe he really is just another guy who only thinks with his dick.**


	20. Again And Again And Again

**Part 20**

Buffy ran until she smashed into Gunn, who had been just around the corner and just about to follow them into the Bronze. He'd been a bit slow in the actual 'following' since he'd had to stay with the car until it was parked so they would be able to find their way back without circling the block 12 times trying to find the right limo.

"Gunn?"

"Buffy? What are you doing running around by yourself like this?" Gunn asked, trying not to show his anger. It was a bad neighbourhood. She could easily have been kidnapped, shot, pawed, raped, beaten, or maybe even mugged...among other things.

"Please, just take me to the car. I'm going home." She couldn't bear to look Gunn in the eye. Not if he would be able to see the hurt and betrayal in them as she knew he would. After all, Gunn had always been more like a friend than a guy doing his job.

"Okay, but promise me you won't try killing yourself," Gunn said, looking gravely serious in his tux and matching stern expression.

Buffy couldn't help but laugh. She could never commit suicide over something like this. Not even if it turned out badly. "I can't believe you would even consider it."

"I didn't. I just knew it'd make you laugh...even though it's not really funny to laugh about suicide, I s'pose."

*****

After about 30 text messages and half a dozen voice messages on her cell, about 40 messages on her answering machine and even a few pages of pleading coming over the fax machine, Buffy was sure she was frustrated. She was even afraid to check her email.

Her mobile buzzed again, showing that another message had been received. Reluctantly, she opened it and skimmed through it. He wanted to explain, to tell her the truth...it was tempting, but Buffy deleted it nonetheless. Unless he thought of a more convincing way of getting the message through, Buffy refused to answer him out in any way.

With graduation being tomorrow, all their belongings had been packed and ready to be taken back to LA. The house had been placed on the market and had already drawn in quite a few potential buyers. It would be perfect—she'd go back to LA, write some sad songs about it all, record them and get over him.

She hoped she wasn't a bet like other girl had been (what was her name again?)—she even doubted it—but she was still hurt by the fact that Angel could be that kind of guy and wondered what kind of act he'd put on to make her fall for him.

Buffy hated to admit it, but Giles was right. There wasn't a chance in hell that she could have a lasting relationship. They hadn't even lasted a whole year.

Today was their 8 month anniversary.

*****

Angel was grunting in frustration. He couldn't get through to her; he couldn't even go to her house—he'd been refused access. It was paining him to just be around Spike and Faith. They never had fights or disagreements and never had problems understanding what they wanted from each other. They even seemed to be in love at times (although neither would ever willingly admit it).

He was furious by now. He couldn't come to any sort of conclusion as to how Buffy could distrust him like that. She'd looked at him with so much betrayal that he'd almost wished he'd done what she thought he'd done so he wouldn't have been so hurt at being accused of it like that. No, that wasn't true. He had done what she'd thought he'd done—just not to her.

He raked a hand through his already messy hair and lowered his head to the table in front of him. He looked at his own reflection in the over-polished wood. It was blurry, but he still looked like a complete and utter mess. Or maybe it was just his vision...

There was something in his heart that longed to be with her again, but another part kept telling him that he shouldn't be with her if she didn't even trust him enough to believe him over...well, anyone else—especially Darla. If she would only hear him out...

It was too late, though. He'd seen the removalists' trucks parked outside her house and loading boxes and pieces of furniture wrapped in large sheets of plastic. Graduation was tomorrow—it was as if she couldn't get away from him fast enough.

*****

Graduation came and went, and to Angel, it seemed the same with Buffy. She came into his life and now she was gone. She'd left with her family right after the ceremony and had hardly even had time to say all her final farewells. She didn't even seem to find the time to say goodbye to *him*.

It was as if he never existed to her. She didn't even make eye contact with him when she walked past him. She'd successfully turned him into the shell of the man he usually was. He was so out of it that he didn't even realise that Cordelia was hanging off of him for half of the time he stayed after the ceremony. When Spike finally pointed it out, he brushed her off like specks of dust on his jacket and left the scene altogether, walking home by himself in his graduation robes. He didn't care that it was too hot or that he looked odd—he noticed nothing and wished to stay that way.

He loved her and in his deepest fantasy, she'd loved him as well. But it didn't matter anymore—what was love without trust?

*****

Buffy looked longingly out of the tinted rear window of the limo and wished she could give in and jump out of the car to walk with him and let him explain. She'd seen him brush Cordelia off and it prided her to no end that he could still be the same guy she knew, even after all they'd been through.

He loved her and she loved him. There was nothing else that mattered, she tried to tell herself. But it didn't matter that he loved her. After all, what was love without honesty?

*****

The summer passed slowly for the both of them—Buffy was always on her toes, working on her new album, appeasing the press and getting her life back into its usual order. Angel, however, had become recluse and had resulted to helping his mother by driving her to and fro, helping her carry groceries and became a literal homebody. Spike and Faith had to kick him in the ass to get him to go to the Bronze and get out of the house.

Buffy's new album was a huge success and they had already begun discussing concert dates and other assorted preparation for what was to be her biggest show ever. They had the dancers, choreographers, lighting, production, sound, construction, costume and make-up crews already all under contract. It promised to be a big affair with sell-out crowds and extra shows.

Yet, through the commotion, all she could think about was how Angel was and how he was coping lately. Was he living it up and being the ladies' man she knew he had been before he'd met her? Or was he taking it like she was, being somewhat recluse and just wishing that they went back to where they were before all the trouble arose? **Scratch that. I don't want to know.**

*****

"You know, you shouldn't sit around feeling sorry for yourself," Spike said, giving Angel a friendly pat on the back. "I think that maybe you should try getting through to her again."

"And how do you propose I do that?" he asked tiredly. He just wanted to go back home and stare at the single poster he'd put up on the ceiling of his room, directly over his bed.

"Do something romantic. All lasses like a little romance—and I know that for a fact," Spike grinned.

Angel groaned, "I'm not going to even ask..."

"Oh, but you know I'm right."

"Get me drunk first—then I'll admit it."

"Sorry, didn't bring any fake ID. I woulda, but the bartender here knows I'm not old enough. Bugger, eh?"

Angel just shrugged, not really caring either way. "So...what do you suggest I do, then, Prince Charming?"

*****

After denouncing each and every suggestion Spike came up with, Angel trudged home on his own and plonked himself down in front of the television, relishing in the familiarity of sinking into the soft leather-covered cushions of the seat. It was annoyingly early, preventing him from falling asleep and annoyingly late to watch any of the Sunday night movies on offer. All he could conclude was that life sucked and that MTV was gradually getting more and more monotonous.

He spread himself out on the sofa and tried to fall asleep by forcing his eyes closed and waiting. He lay down like that for about five minutes until he gave up and sat back up. There was nothing that could keep his mind from wandering. It was time for a resolution and in his current frame of mind, he couldn't think of anything that resembled a resolution, let alone a vaguely romantic one.

Flicking through every channel available, he settled down to watch another of those celebrity gossip shows and slowly felt his eyes drooping from boredom and utter exhaustion a few minutes later.

"...Buffy Summers."

Angel's eyes snapped open at the mention of her name. He sat up properly again and glued his eyes to the screen as he saw his ex's face again and again and again. Apparently her album was doing well in the number of sales and had prompted a very speedy decision for a tour to be held.

"...Tickets on sale from September 18th."

**Whoa, that's a long time from now. It's only, what? August the... Hey, what IS the date?** He looked down at his watch. **Fuck! Why didn't anyone tell me it was already the 10th? That means I start college in a week...shit.** He quickly scribbled down the details from the screen and hurried upstairs to start packing.

UCLA was going to be too far away from home to be careless about what he packed.

*****

"Delta Terrace, Delta Terrace, where oh where is Delta Terrace?" Angel mumbled to himself, looking up from an incredibly vague map to his surroundings. He was trying to find his room—keyword: trying—and getting lost in the process. His parents had handled the rest of his luggage, figuring that they would save him the trouble of dragging all his belongings around while he got lost looking for his room and missing the first day of the three-day orientation program. His sense of direction sucked...actually, 'sucked' would be an understatement.

He looked from right to left. His eye caught onto the lettering on one of the buildings in line of vision to his left. There were too much concrete and too little trees, he decided—he would've completely missed the words 'Delta Terrace' jutting out of the wall had the his head not shifted to avoid the shine of the concrete at the exact moment he was looking in that direction. "Aha, there you are. Delta Terrace."

His key read '307', the room was decidedly considerably less troublesome to locate than the building. He turned the key in its lock and braced himself. He'd seen the pamphlets and heard about dorms from friends and relatives and nothing could've prepared him for the reality—it was very...

Homey. Pleasant, not too small (although still considerably smaller than his room at home) and consisted of two beds, two desks, a fridge, microwave, a TV, a set of drawers, two wardrobes, an adjoining private bathroom and several sockets in the walls for electricity, internet, phones, etc. There was a pleasant view out the window toward the courtyard below and the walls were an off-white colour. All in all, it looked comfortable enough and he couldn't wait to meet his roommate.

On his bed was a large box and two suitcases filled to the brim with things he would need plus the things his parents thought he would need. Angel immediately dumped his bag on top of the two suitcases and began to open the large cardboard box—his computer. Handy for three things: contacting his family (and bluffing about what a great time he was having), doing his assignments (or for using in a rush when he realised he'd been putting off an assignment for too long) and looking for more news on Buffy.

With that thought, he set to work shoving the whole box on his desk and throwing everything to the ground to open the suitcase being squashed underneath the other. Slipping his hand carefully underneath a pile of clothes, he pulled out a photo frame. In it was picture of himself and Buffy taken at the Santa Monica Pier—it was his favourite out of all the pictures he had of the both of them together. He wanted her back, for them to be the way they were again. He set the photo frame up on the shelf over the desk. When he was finally satisfied with its position, he started getting the rest of his stuff in order—the most important being the computer.

*****

Several minutes after he got the computer all set up and in working order, Angel heard the sound of a key turning in the lock of the door. In trundled a suitcase and beside it, a few boxes that were filled to almost overflowing. Angel heard the voice of, he presumed, his new roommate saying goodbye to his mother and father before he heard the door click closed.

A head peered through the doorway, a smile brightening on its face as soon as he saw Angel halfway buried beneath his table, fixing a wire that he'd accidentally dislodged with his foot. "Hi, you must be my roommate. I'm Jared, Jared Gulliver." He extended his hand out to Angel in a friendly manner.

Angel dusted his hands off and accepted the handshake. "Angel, Angel Ferguson." **Good thing he isn't one of those nerds who look like they'll stay in every night to study and do their assignments. How boring would being stuck living with a person like that be? Also, he didn't make a James Bond crack. That's definitely a good thing.**

"So, uh, Angel, what course are you doing?" Jared asked casually as he picked up a few of his boxes from where he'd left them and shoved them straight into his wardrobe.

"Business Economics. You?"

"Civil Engineering, but I have no idea what I'd do with a degree like that," Jared shrugged. "I bet that's what half of the people here are here for anyway—to get a degree and then have no idea what to do with it and end up getting a job as a postman or a fledgling actor."

"Count me out of that half then. I have bigger plans than to feature in a series of infomercials starring kitchen appliances or Tae Bo videos," Angel joked.

"Don't worry. You don't look the type anyway," Jared replied, laughing softly as he remembered the small collection of Tae Bo videos sitting on the shelf at home as a result of his mother's one-time drunken shopping spree. Add two exercise machines, some skin care products, a set of non-stick pots and pans, 500 slimming tablets and a set of complimentary steak knives and you'd get a pretty good idea of how drunk she was at the time.

His eyes wandered around the room and decided that it was a bit too bare than he would've liked. The walls were too white and it made him almost feel as if he were in a psychiatric hospital. With newfound resolve, he stuck his head into the wardrobe and delved into one of the boxes he'd chucked in just moments earlier and pulled out a large white roll with two elastic bands securing it together. Jared removed the rubber bands and unrolled it out onto his bed.

"This is exactly what this room needs—some decoration," he said. He held up the first from the pile, "This is my personal favourite."

Angel gulped. Buffy. Again and again and again. "So I take it you're a...fan?"

"Are you kidding? Who wouldn't be with a body like that?"

Angel suppressed his rage (although he supposed that Jared was right) and just continued to put his stuff away in the wardrobe and in the chest of drawers. **At least only I know what she looks like completely naked...**

"You're too quiet. You don't seem the quiet type. What's up?" Jared asked as he secured the last corner of the last poster to the wall. "I know we don't know each other well or anything like that, but now is as good a time as any to find out all this stuff, right?"

Angel wordlessly turned his gaze to the photo sitting in the photo frame and continued what he was doing.

Jared watched his new roommate closely as he looked towards the photo frame sitting on the shelf squinting to try to see the photo more clearly, succeeding eventually by getting closer to it.

"How'd you do that?" Jared asked, pointing at the photo.

"How'd I do what?"

"Manipulate that photo like that," he said, pointing at the photo. "And here I thought you weren't a fan."

"No, not technically. Besides, that's a real photo."

"Well then if she had one of those CD signing things in, what's this? Santa Monica? I would've heard about it...weird," he was now almost pressed right up to the photo frame, inspecting the photo for telltale signs of manipulatory work and coming up empty-handed, "very weird."

"She's my girlfriend," Angel finally said. "Or was, anyway," he added with dejection.

"You crazy motherfucker... There is no way I'm believing that," Jared said, backing away with each syllable. "Besides, didn't she used to go out with some guy...?" Reaching into his wardrobe once again, he pulled out a magazine and flipped to the page he remembered seeing the article on. "Okay then, I believe you."

  


**Okay. AN time again. I did about an hour of research for this particular chapter. I drew all my UCLA information entirely from the UCLA site and even did one of those Virtual Reality things to get it as real as possible. If I got anything wacked out completely, then pretend it's real and try not to be offended by inaccuracy. Thanks. It took me about half an hour to find the site on the university housing...that's a pretty darned long time if you ask me. And also, note that this chapter is extra long. :D**


	21. Hottie Got Lucky

**Part 21**

Angel's finger was poised over the buttons on the phone, ready to dial the number to the ticketing office at the exact moment they opened. He tried two minutes ago and they'd just turned him back and gave him a voice recorded message saying that they would open in two minutes time. As soon as the numbers on his clock radio changed, Angel began to dial frantically.

Following the phone prompts, he used his brand spanking new credit card to buy the tickets and had managed to secure seats for himself and ever-annoying roomie. In the ten seconds or so that Angel had been carefully listening to the to-do-such-and-such-press-one...so on and so forth message, he'd lost about 12 rows to other callers, those buying over the counter at the ticket offices and people purchasing over the internet. **Woah, tough.**

It was madness. Ten seconds and already enough tickets were sold to fill twelve rows. *Twelve*-if he'd waited for the full message to play, he guessed he probably would've lost closer to twenty rows.

Later he checked the seating arrangements over the internet and found that he'd actually gotten aisle seats-perfect for his plan. Nothing extravagant of course-certainly not anything that would involve singing or dancing or anything remotely publicly humiliating. Or at least he hoped it wouldn't.

*****

Again, screaming of fans. Again, applause. It didn't hold the same magic to her as it did before, when she thought it could only get so good. But now...now she wasn't so sure anymore. It was different last time. It was more exhilarating. All that she was concerned about now was that Angel would get her hints-she was sure he was watching it in some way or another-if not by coming to the actual event or by watching it on pay-per-view. She'd written a song especially about him a month after the break up and had been the most meaningful song to her from the whole album.

After a long and emotionally draining conversation with Jenny, she'd fallen apart and admitted her true feelings about the whole catastrophe. She knew she loved him already. She knew he loved her back. The problem was that she couldn't admit to herself that she still wanted to be with him, not until Jenny forced it out of her by brute force...or rather, supportive words.

The first show hadn't even started yet. She was still waiting nervously backstage as she wondered if it was still a good idea to go ahead with her plan to profess her love to him in such a public way. But of course, she couldn't back out now. The band had rehearsed it already and probably wouldn't be happy with her if she decided at the last minute to cut it out of the program. Nor would she be too happy with herself afterwards.

*****

"Gunn!" Angel shouted as soon as he spotted the bald African-American wading through the crowd of fans still waiting to get into their seats. Angel was armed with a bunch of nineteen red roses. That is, a dozen plus seven-Buffy's lucky number. Remembering that little detail had been an easier feat than figuring out how he could remember so easily in the first place. Amongst the roses sat a crisp white piece of card carefully written on by him and him alone. He just hoped it wouldn't end up in her drawer of "I love you" cards from supposed "secret admirers". She'd even shown the drawer to him once-it was only half full so far.

Gunn didn't turn around immediately (his movement was currently...constricted), but when he did, he instantly recognised him. "Loverboy!"

"Will you stop calling me that?" Angel grumbled.

"Ooh, flowers. Are they for me?" Gunn asked in a mocking tone that made Angel idly wonder if he was about to swoon like an 18th century debutante.

"Do you even have to ask?"

"Okay, here's the deal," Gunn said, suddenly turning a bit too serious and threatening for Angel's liking. "I don't know what happened, but you hurt her bad. If you expect her to forgive you cos you brought a bunch of flowers, then I think that maybe you should reconsider your chances."

Angel turned the bunch of flowers around and pointed to the card inside, "There's a note."

"And what exactly do you want me to do about it?"

"Could you just...give them to her? Make sure she sees the note. And also, I need you to tell her that I got a dozen, plus seven. I'll owe you one..."

"You, my man, have a twisted logic. Why didn't you just get seven single ones and smush them together? Then you'd get her ACTUAL lucky number. Still, twisted logic."

"I thought of that, but then the bunch looked too small. Please tell me your next phrase will be 'I'll see what I can do,'" Angel pleaded, coaxing it out of him by pure desperation.

"I'll see what I can do," Gunn said, accepting the roses. "Also, my message is that she has a message for you. Which you'll...ah, find out about sooner or later."

"Are you pulling my leg or are you clueing me in on something?" Angel asked suspiciously as he found his seat and slowly sank down into it, not breaking eye contact.

"Both," he replied mysteriously as he left, having a little difficulty with his planned scene-exit scenario as the lights had been dimmed and there were still a whole flood of people trying to get to their seats.

Jared looked at Angel in question. "Who the heck was that?"

"Charles Gunn. He's her, uh, permanent bodyguard."

"Oh. Interesting. Are they...?"

Angel flashed him an odd glance, "Uh...no?"

"Just checking."

*****

**AN: The song is "I Love You" by Faith Evans, from the album, 'Faithfully'. Cue: download.**

Buffy hurriedly slipped behind the changing screen backstage with three of the people from wardrobe bearing her next costume, jewellery and shoes. Okay, not exactly a costume, since it was store-bought dress, but technically...

She unhooked the microphone headset from her ears and threw it to one side, managing to be able to be stripped of most of her previous costume in the process. She picked up a bottle of water from a nearby table and gulped down half the contents and managed to don the plain white gown at the same time.

One of them started undoing her hair, another was securing a necklace around her neck and the last of them was putting shoes on the floor so that she could slip them on. After they were done with her hair, a fourth guy came in and gave her a heavy black microphone and told her she had all of fifteen seconds to do whatever she wished. Or 12 seconds by the time he finished telling her.

Gunn appeared out of nowhere..."These-"...and presented her with Angel's bunch of roses "-are for you."

Buffy beamed. "Gunn...you didn't have to. That's so sweet..." She brought the bouquet up to her nose to smell them.

"I didn't. Loverboy asked me to give 'em to ya. Told me to tell you there are nineteen, too. A dozen, plus seven."

"Really? I can't believe he remembered me saying that..."

"I think that's your cue," Gunn said pointedly as the first few chords of the next song were played and the screaming of the crowd died down in reply to the mellowness of the accompaniment. Buffy grabbed the note tucked within the flowers and wrapped it around her microphone. She set the flowers down on a nearby empty chair and hurried back onto the stage.

She took a deep breath. This was the right moment for saying the three little words that she'd somehow kept locked up inside for months. Its time had come; right here and right now.

_//My heart belongs to you  
So what could I do  
To make you feel I'm down with...  
You see me hangin' around  
But you don't know how  
You make me feel for you, and...//_  


She poured her heart out as she sung. She'd written the song for him and now she was singing it for him. He was out in the crowd somewhere and she wanted him to know that she meant what she was singing.

_//Each and every day, I try to make some sense of this  
What you mean to me, I know it could be serious  
Each and every night, I dream about just holding you  
Loving you like this, what is a girl supposed to do//_  


The backup vocalists sang the first half of each line and Buffy sang the second half, the harmony stirring Angel from his daze to recall what Gunn had hinted at before. "She has a message for you," he'd said. Was this the message? He had the album and recognised the song to be the ironically titled "I Love You"...it was his favourite track and he often spent whole days listening to the song on repeat. It just meant the world to him to hear her say those three little words.

_//I love you, I want you  
You're the one that I live for  
And I can't take it anymore  
I love you, I need you  
What can I do to make you see  
You're the only one for me//_  


Buffy searched the crowd-starting from the back-for that familiar face that her heart was aching with the need to see again.

_//First time I saw your face  
My heart just erased  
All the guys I knew  
Before you walked into my life  
I was the type to never want for nothing//_  


Getting to the sides, she still couldn't find him. She was starting to get desperate. The only good thing to come of the search, should it be unsuccessful, is that she would've made eye contact (however briefly) with almost every member of the audience. She prayed to God silently that it would be successful.

_//Each and every day, I try to make some sense of this  
What you mean to me, I know it could be serious  
Each and every night, I dream about just holding you  
Loving you like this, what is a girl supposed to do//_  


Angel realized that she had yet to notice him there, near the front of the audience, looking straight at her throughout the whole of the time she'd been onstage. Maybe it had something to do with the obsessed screaming girls sitting in front, who were unable to *stay* seated.

_//I love you, I want you  
You're the one that I live for  
And I can't take it anymore  
I love you, I need you  
What can I do to make you see  
You're the only one for me//_  


Finishing with searching the sides of the concert hall, she concentrated on searching the section in front of her where she guessed Angel was least likely to have gotten a seat in...unless he really rushed to get the tickets over the phone... She concentrated harder-that was definitely something she could imagine him doing.

_//I love you, I want you  
I need you in my life  
Can't you see what you mean to me?  
Baby, come hold me tight//_  


Nearing the front, she finally found him. He was looking up at her with dazed eyes, as if he couldn't believe that she'd found him in a crowd like this. He was behind a bunch of three girls who she'd noticed before, but they'd obstructed any sort of view she could've had of him. It was chance that the person sitting beside him had tapped one of them on the shoulder when he did. **God bless that person who I don't have a clue about.**

_//I miss you, wanna kiss you  
Every time I see your face  
Baby I'll be waiting for you  
Each and every day//_  


One of the girls sitting in front of Angel kept turning around to look at him and Jared. He felt like telling her it was creeping him out, but restrained himself. It would mean that he'd have to break eye contact with Buffy...which would be bad.

The girl turned around again and gasped. She turned back to the front sharply and quickly whispered to her friends, who each gasped louder than the girl before. **Maybe they recognize from somewhere. I think I'll deem this the Jared Realisation.**

Buffy glared at the three girls checking her guy out (or so it looked from her line of vision). **Hey! Eyes off!**

_//I love you, I want you  
You're the one that I live for  
And I can't take it anymore  
I love you, I need you  
What can I do to make you see  
You're the only one for me//_  


Her voice was nearly hoarse with emotion. She was getting close to the point where she just wanted to drift off the stage and back into his arms. It was certainly bordering on corny, but she didn't care what anyone else-not even Jenny or Giles (wherever those two disappeared off to half an hour ago)-thought about their relationship, not now or ever again.

_//Baby you're the only one for me  
And you know it's meant to be  
What can I do to make you see  
My love will carry on  
So listen to my heart and know  
To find out where my love will go  
The future lies between us, boy  
Oh babe, I love you so//_  


She carefully unwrapped the card discreetly as she sang. On it, Angel had written a poem, one that he'd written himself.

"I know I can't sing  
I know I can't dance  
I know I'm not nearly perfect  
But I have to take a chance  
  
The feelings in my heart,  
I know you may not reciprocate  
But there's a thirst-not in my throat  
That I cannot seem to sate  
  
The only thing I do know,  
And for sure, it's true  
Is not only that I was a fool  
It's that I love you..."  


It wasn't a very good poem, but it said exactly what he wanted to say to her. Angel saw the flash of white that she held in her hand and instantly flickered his eyes to her face. She was smiling, beaming, grinning...there just weren't enough words he could think of describe the smile she gave him.

Buffy tucked the card safely back into her hand and quickly cut off the rest of the song (which was just more repeated chorus).

_//I love you//_

*****

When he got home that night-after unsuccessfully trying to sneak backstage-he was surprised to hear noises coming from his dorm room. It was Jared (who had declared Angel a lost cause and gotten back by his own means of transport) and somebody else, whose voice sounded vaguely familiar.

"Hey, Loverboy. Gotta say, I never imagined that dorms could look so...civilised," Gunn said, gazing around and poking his nose into the things on Angel's desk. "Hey, you still have that picture from the Pier," Gunn held up the frame and grinned proudly, "I'm an amateur at photography, but I think this turned out damned good, don't you?"

"Speak or forever hold your peace," Angel said, sighing. Jared watched from the other side of the room, intent on keeping out of the conversation and content to be allowed to witness it.

Gunn rubbed his hands together, "Someone's gonna get lucky tonight..."

"Yes, and we all know it's not gonna be you. No news there," Angel grinned.

"Hey! I take offence to that. I have a girlfriend and I am *not* afraid to turn her on you."

"Okay, I got it. Now what was it you wanted to say?"

"Why don't you," Gunn pointed to Angel, "come with me, and we'll go on a little drive."

*****

Gunn held the limo door open for him, gesturing for him to get inside with a flourish of his free hand. Angel looked at him suspiciously, but got in nonetheless. Gunn slammed the door after him.

"Put it on the boil and let simmer for half an hour," Gunn said to himself curtly. "It's time to party!" He shouted at the top of his lungs, slamming the front passenger door behind him and they headed off for destinations unknown (though possibly just a winding route through the area).

*****

Angel blinked to adjust to the darkness of his surroundings. It was then that he noticed that he wasn't alone...in a good way, of course.

He swallowed a lump in his throat before he could squeeze out the tiniest of tiny sounds, "Buffy?"

"Of course, silly," she said slowly as she moved up to sit next him. She was wearing a pair of worn-out jeans and snug-looking sweater, but he still couldn't imagine her looking better than she did right now. **Well, technically...better would involve the loss of the jeans and the sweater, but...** "Seeing as we owe each other an apology, can we just say that they cancel each other out and skip to the bit where I kiss you?"

Angel nodded, not knowing how to respond. She quickly climbed into his lap and kissed him as if she hadn't seen him for a thousand years, which wasn't far from the truth, in her opinion.

"I wrote that song for you, you know. And I do love you."

"I know...I love you, too. I-I turned down several scholarships to be near you," Angel said, and then as an afterthought, added, "you know."

"Really? What kind of scholarships?"

"Not academic, of course. They were all football scholarships. My dad wasn't too happy with me," he said, laughing at the memory. He let his hands wander, eventually ending up at the same place as his gaze. "Lucky jeans?"

"Well Gunn DID mention something to you didn't he?" she said smirking. "Lucky you."

**THE END**

AN: There will be no sequel!!


End file.
